Hero of Horror: A Jumpchain Story
by YJAnon
Summary: Raccoon City has been destroyed. A disgraced, soon to be ex-cop and former member of S.T.A.R.S. by the name of Nick Brandt has been unexpectedly called in for one last assignment. Together with his partner and several other members of the Chicago Police Department, they are sent to investigate one of the Umbrella Corporation's warehouses- soon finding that all is not as it seems...
1. Prelude: What is Jumpchain?

**Prelude: What is Jumpchain?**

Hello, my name is YJ_Anon. Some of you probably already know me; if that's the case then please feel free to skip ahead to the next chapter to get to the actual story. This chapter is meant to serve as an explanation of Jumpchain for those who are unfamiliar with how it works, and is most likely old hat for those who know what it is.

Jumpchain is a series of CYOAs, which stands for Choose Your Own Adventure. While other CYOAs come in the form of books- including some of the Goosebumps novels- and include their own stories, Jumpchain CYOAs are essentially games that you play to create your own story; a writing prompt, basically. You may roll dice to determine certain things- in Jumpchain this often includes your starting location, age, and sometimes other details- but for the most part you're making your own decisions on what you do or what you have. Each individual CYOA in Jumpchain is commonly referred to as a "Jump"; a single Jump document typically covers a single series or property. We have over a thousand of them, ranging from Avatar: The Last Airbender to Zootopia, and each one typically shares a common format that makes them easy to use and understand once you get the hang of them.

Jumpchain was created by an anon on 4chan's traditional games board (/tg/) called Quicksilver. Although 4chan has evolved quite a bit once the community grew, the core of Jumpchain remains the same. The basic premise is that there is a person- called a Jumper- who is offered a deal by a mysterious benefactor, sometimes referred to as Jump-chan. The Jumper is often a self-insert for the person who is playing the CYOAs- as is the case in my story- but there are also those who use original characters or canon characters as their Jumper.

Jump-chan is bored by the lack of adventure in the Jumper's world, and offers to send the Jumper to another world for ten years to help alleviate their boredom. Pokemon is typically the first world visited, but here I've decided to use Resident Evil instead. In order to give the Jumper an advantage in the world they're visiting, Jump-chan gives them 1000 Choice Points which can be used to buy things in the Jump document. Supernatural abilities, skills, and other perks can all be bought with CP, as can items such as firearms, buildings, vehicles, and even things like food or knick-knacks. Followers and companions can also be bought with CP, though it is commonly ruled that in order to recruit canon characters they must decide to follow you on their own, in addition to paying CP for them.

Companions are those the Jumper decides to bring with them on their journey. Followers are the same; however, they are different from companions, and are not always able to use certain options that companions can use. Commonly, a Jump will allow you to "import" a companion, giving them their own CP to spend as well as an Origin. An Origin is basically a backstory; it gives them a history in the world they're in, with memories to go along with that, but can also come with disadvantages. The exception to this rule is the "Drop-In" origin, which is essentially your standard Isekai option- the Jumper or companion suddenly appears in the world, with no history or memories of having lived there before, with everything that they've purchased already on their person or a part of them. Because my Jumper chose a non Drop-In Origin, for the first few chapters he'll essentially have amnesia in regards to his past life- only remembering the life he's lived in the world of Resident Evil, and not the one in "our" world.

While most options in a Jump are beneficial, the Jumper can also take drawbacks to get more CP. Drawbacks are negative things that happen during their time in a world; things like permanently missing a limb, being hounded by enemies, facing a particularly powerful enemy, losing your powers, gaining a weakness, having bad luck, or having to accomplish a certain task are common. A Jumper's stay in a world lasts ten years in most cases, so it's important to consider your options carefully.

If the Jumper dies during those ten years, they are sent home- all of their purchases going with them. If they survive, they are offered a choice- they can either stay in their current world, go back to their original world, or continue onto the next world. Any option they pick will allow them to keep the purchases they made with CP; however, if they decide to go to a new world, the Jumper will get a new stipend of CP to spend on additional purchases, while also keeping the things they got before.

Jumpchain is a cycle; the Jumper picks a Jump, gets CP to spend, and goes to the world that the Jump covers. When they decide to move on to the next Jump, they get more CP, which means more power and another ten years in a new world. The cycle repeats with the Jumper visiting more and more worlds, becoming gradually more skilled and more powerful. Once the Jumper is done collecting power, they go to an End Jump- a final challenge. If they die, like before they return to their own world. If they succeed, they unlock the power of their Spark- a power that allows them to travel to different worlds on their own, without Jump-chan having to send them there. They also gain a massive boost in power.

In addition to regular Jumps, there are also supplements that are available to use. The most commonly used supplements are those that were made by Quicksilver, called the Body Mod and Cosmic Warehouse. The first allows the Jumper to redesign their body; the other allows them to create a space that follows them where they can store the things they've obtained. When Pokemon is taken as a first Jump, Body Mod and Cosmic Warehouse are the rewards for successfully completing it. What happens when Pokemon isn't taken first is usually left up to interpretation; in my case, I've decided to use Body Mod along with the Resident Evil Jump, with Cosmic Warehouse being the reward for if my Jumper successfully survives the Resident Evil world.

There are also Gauntlets, which are basically Jumps where the Jumper loses all of their powers, items, their Cosmic Warehouse if they have one, as well as all their companions until the Gauntlet is over. A Gauntlet is a challenge where dying doesn't result in the Jumper being sent home; however, they won't gain anything from the Gauntlet either, instead moving onto the next Jump or Gauntlet. In a Gauntlet, the Jumper has only their Body Mod body and their skills and wits to survive with. They start with no CP, and drawbacks are usually their only source of CP; there are things to buy as normal, though.

Ultimately, the best way to learn about Jumpchain is to try it out for yourself and ask questions in the communities that are familiar with it, since there's too much history and minutiae for me to cover more than the basics here. I'd recommend trying out the Pokemon Jump first, since it goes over the mechanical side of Jumpchain in more depth. While in my opinion the Jumpchain thread on /tg/ is the best place to get information, there are also threads on other websites such as Spacebattles and Reddit. I'm fairly experienced with Jumpchain myself, and have made several Jumps including my first one, Young Justice, which is what the YJ in my name stands for (in case you were wondering what that was about), so I will also be able to answer questions here if you ask.

Thanks for reading this introduction, and I hope you enjoy the story that follows it!


	2. Chapter 1: Outbreak

**Chapter One: Outbreak**

October 8th, 1998 - five days after I had made a career ending mistake, and seven days after the destruction of Racoon City. It was almost twelve PM, and I was still in bed- which was, essentially, my new routine as of a few days ago. A ringing noise had woken me, and with a groan I rolled over in bed, sitting up. I wasn't really all that tired; it was the interruption more than anything that had agitated me. My alarm clock was silent- unplugged the morning of the third once I had gotten showered and dressed, only to realize that I didn't have a job anymore. That just left the phone, then, and the likeliness of the person on the other side being someone worth talking to was slim to none.

Standing up, I slowly left the comfort of my bedroom to see who was trying to call me, stepping over my discarded uniform as I went. The words "Chicago Police" were emblazoned on the back of the blue shirt in black, glossy print. It was a bit strange to look at it, knowing I wouldn't put it- or likely, _any_ \- uniform on ever again. I hadn't officially been fired yet, but it was just a matter of time- I'd only be allowed to keep it, and my badge, until the paperwork officially removing me from the force was pushed through amid the chaos of the last week. I felt a brief moment of schadenfreude imagining the chief hunched over a pile of paperwork, doubtlessly generated by all of the protests, riots, and attacks on Umbrella employees that had been going on the past week, until I remembered that the few friends I had made at the station would be out there in that mess, too. It sent a twinge of pain through my chest at the thought; _"I should be out there helping them, not in here being useless."_

But that ship had sailed, and unfortunately I only had myself to blame for that. As much as I hated it, I couldn't do anything to help them now.

Grabbing the ringing phone off of its receiver, I put it to my ear and gave a quick "Hello?" to whoever was on the other side, trying not to sound like I just woke up.

"Finally," the voice of Nate- one of my former coworkers- rang out; tinny, something which wasn't helped by the man's naturally nasally voice, "I've been trying to reach you for ten minutes. Chief Marsh wants you to come in today. He says you should come in uniform. Your partner should be coming to pick you up soon."

"In uniform? What, does he want to rip the badge off my chest in front of everyone to assert his dominance?"

"Nick, _this is serious_ ," he urged, and I shifted on my feet uneasily at the almost scared sounding tone in his voice, "it has something to do with Umbrella. I'm not sure of all the details right now, but…"

My grip around the phone's handle tightened at his mention of the pharmaceutical company. In the background, I could hear Nate talking to someone- judging by how the other party shouted, I could guess that someone was Marsh.

I had friends in Raccoon City, and most of them didn't make it out alive. Everyone had seen the pictures of the craters and ruins that used to be Raccoon City by now- a city of thousands, wiped clean in an instant. Out of all of them that had been in the city, only four of my old coworkers had managed to escape the nuclear blasts- Barry, Rebecca, Chris, and Jill. Everyone else was missing; presumed dead. If not by the zombies, monsters, and other biological terrors unleashed upon the city than by the missiles that destroyed it. There was a chance that they had made it out and were in quarantine, sure, but it seemed that the chances of that shrunk everyday.

I had only escaped the incident thanks to a sudden transfer to Chicago to help train the members of their own special tactics units. As a member of S.T.A.R.S. (Special Tactics And Rescue Service)- one of the most elite police forces in the country- I was suited for the job, even if I was a bit fresh in the face. When the first reports of what had been going on in Raccoon City came in near the end of September, I had tried calling my friends for days… only to have the answering machine pick up each time. Now, not even that was there.

"Tell Marsh I'll be there, Nate."

Another muffled shout, followed by a sigh from Nate. "Right, will do. Sorry about that, Nick."

"Don't mention it. I-" The sounds coming from the phone stopped, and three short beeps told me that he had already hung up.

The conversation had left me with mixed feelings; on the one hand, it seemed like I might not be as hosed as I had previously thought, if I was being asked to show up in uniform. And whatever Marsh had wanted me for involved Umbrella in some way; I wasn't sure if that was a plus or a minus yet. I'd _love_ to get my hands on their higher ups if I had the chance, and with their headquarters here in the city that just might be in the cards.

On the other hand, Umbrella was famous for its donations to police departments- both financially and in terms of medical supplies- which meant that I might be asked to keep those monsters safe instead. Something which had already gotten me in trouble- and might still result in me getting fired. Marsh knew I had lost people in Raccoon City, and if he asked me to defend Umbrella again I'd probably end my night in a jail cell after I slapped his shit in.

Fuck it; I didn't have anything else left to lose. The worst case scenario would still be pretty damn satisfying before I got put in cuffs. I walked to the bathroom and quickly hopped in the shower. The water took a while to heat up in my apartment, so I just as quickly hopped out after making sure I was relatively clean. A quick shave, then my uniform was on and I was out the door. True to Nate's word, a squad car pulled up a few minutes later.

Sara rolled the driver's side window down as I walked up to the car, her face inscrutable behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Her brown hair, cut short, was mostly hidden under a dark blue beret. Her uniform was the same as mine; a light blue shirt worn with darker blue pants. The differences- other than the beret- was that I was wearing a normal belt, while hers had her nightstick, survival knife, sidearm, and lock picking kit on it, in addition to the rest of the usual kit. She was also wearing a dark blue, nearly black, armored vest- a mixture of metal and kevlar, by the look of it- that was definitely a step up from the bullet proof vests that we normally wore."Morning, Sara," I greeted her, "how's the week been?" I thought for a moment, then added, "And who does Marsh have you paired up with now?"

She grimaced. "Wolf. And I think you can guess how my weeks been."

I winced. "Sorry about that."

"Mmhm. Protesters have been camped out in front of Umbrella HQ 24/7 since news from Raccoon City started trickling in…"

"Okay."

"...There have been break ins at Umbrella affiliated companies and businesses. Bricks thrown through windows, tires on vehicles slashed, graffiti and other misc. vandalism…"

"Well, sucks for them, I guess."

"...and we've had some attempted murders, too, on Umbrella employees. And a few successful ones."

I decided to hold my tongue on that one, but I imagine I didn't look very sympathetic about that piece of news. Sara sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "If it makes you feel better, we're raiding a few Umbrella buildings today. That's why Marsh wanted you to come in."

Now that _was_ a surprise. "Really," I asked, intrigued, "did he say what for?"

Sara shrugged. "Nope; just that 'Nick has the most experience with this sort of thing, so he should lead the mission in spite of his disgraceful outburst.' Not what he said exactly, but you get the gist."

I couldn't help but a laugh at that. "Yeah, well, fuck him. I was right, and soon everyone's going to know that. He can fire me all he likes." I walked around the front of the car, opening the passenger side door and sitting inside. Sara was already driving away as I closed the door, buckling up. I started to fiddle with the radio- to Sara's annoyance, from the quick glance she gave me- as we started towards the station. I eventually settled in on some sort of radio talk show when I heard one of the speakers mention Umbrella.

With nothing better to do, I had religiously followed every news station I could think of for news on the pharmaceutical giant. I wanted to stay informed on the investigation, painfully slow as it was, as well as the events that followed the outbreak. Talking heads spun the tragedy one way or another, some blaming the current government and president for what had happened, while others blamed terrorists or Russia. In the past few days, Umbrella was coming up more and more often, and the bolder stations had even started insinuating that they were the ones to blame. Of course, Umbrella had its roots deep into Chicago, which made things more difficult here than anywhere else. Umbrella probably has paid informants, spies, shills, saboteurs, and who knows what else working around the clock doing damage control. And although the thought of that made my blood boil, I still wanted to hear what they were saying. If only so I was aware of what it was. From what I could tell, the radio station was doing an interview with an Umbrella spokesperson.

"-well, all I'm saying is that it's too early to _really_ say what happened in Raccoon City… any number of things could've caused the sickness that spread there," a woman's voice spoke, "biological weapons shouldn't be ruled out, of course, but there's no evidence that the Umbrella corporation was involved."

"I've heard Umbrella cite Raccoon City's status as one of the unhealthiest cities in the country, for one, but even then how could this disease spread so quickly without showing up anywhere else," a man's voice asked, "and what about the reports of monsters from the survivors?"

"As I said before- investigations by both the US Government _and_ Umbrella are still ongoing. As for these so called 'monsters'," the woman scoffed, "at best, they're people who, in the throes of their illness, were mistaken for being monsters. At worst, they're fabrications told by attention seekers- I mean, really, mutated sewer gators? Giant insects? Reptile men? _Zombies_? Between most of these reports coming from scared, confused survivors and the so called 'elites' of the RCPD, it's no surprise that a few tall-tales have sprung up."

"All true," I muttered, making Sara look at me briefly as we came to a stop in front of a red light. The people on the radio continued talking, but they weren't really saying anything interesting. "The monsters, I mean."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked. I looked at her, and she continued; "I mean, you weren't in the city when everything went down, and you weren't a part of S.T.A.R.S. when that mission happened up in the mountains…"

"Oh, please don't go all Scully on me Sara. I believe what Chris had to say about what happened that night, and I definitely believe that Umbrella's been making monsters. Whoever this is, they're obviously working for Umbrella- trying to discredit what people are saying. I don't care how sick someone is, they're not going to be mistaken for being a monster, and aside from the zombies they're one of the common denominators between stories from the survivors, _and_ it's backed up by what Chris had to say about what he encountered in the Arklay mountains."

"Look, all I'm saying is that some of this shit's pretty hard to swallow," she replied, as the light turned green

"And I _get that_. I really do. But an American city was _nuked_ a week ago due to the spread of some sort of biological weapon, seeing as no natural disease could spread that fast without popping up elsewhere, and it's a pretty short list of who can be responsible for that. If it's another country, then you can bet a war's on the horizon because of that; if it's the US government, we're already pretty much screwed. Umbrella already has a history of crooked shit going down, and they're one of the biggest corporations in the _world_. But compared to the other options, Umbrella being behind Raccoon City is really the best case scenario."

"Mm."

"Bah, you'll see. Any day now the whole thing's going to get blown wide open, mark my words." I looked out the window, watching the buildings go by as I started to listen to the radio again. I was a little annoyed that Sara didn't believe me, but I also couldn't really blame her- it _was_ hard to swallow, and she didn't have the benefit of seeing the remnants of S.T.A.R.S. coming back from that fateful night in the woods, of hearing their accounts and seeing their battle scars.

"-speaking of the police.- has anything been done about that nut who interrupted that press conference a few days ago, in front of Umbrella's HQ," the man's voice asked, "the one who hijacked the microphone for a few seconds?"

"Not at this time, no. Umbrella has decided not to press charges."

"Oh shit," I said, turning to look back at the radio. Sara had a frown on her face. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"...nah. I'm sure they'll stop talking about it within your lifetime. Well, maybe not if you're right after all, but we can hope for the best." I let out a groan; that definitely wasn't my finest hour. Even if it was totally justified. Which it was.

"So, uh, are the guys still talking about it?"

"Yep. Someone got it on tape actually. I think they're planning on bringing it to the Christmas party." I looked at her, horrified; was it just my imagination, or were her lips slightly curved upwards?

"In my defense, I wouldn't have said anything if they had told the truth. As a cop, it's my responsibility to fight the never-ending battle for truth, justice, and the American way." I couldn't help but smile as I said that, which only widened as Sara's did, too. I think, of all the things I had missed about this job, shooting the shit with her and some of the others had been the thing I missed the most. But as much as I wanted to keep the banter up, I soon realized how close we were to the station, and got back to business. "Is there anything else I should know before I go in there? Besides the Chief, is there anyone pissed off at me?"

"Eh," she shrugged, "not really. A few of the guys were talking shit the day after, but they haven't said anything since. I think most of them understood that you were pretty emotional at the time. But I've been too busy busting my ass to keep track, so I dunno."

"That's a relief, I guess," I said, just as we pulled into the parking lot. There were a few more squad cars out front than usual, which wasn't surprising given the reason I had been recalled. A raid on an Umbrella warehouse… there probably wouldn't be any monsters inside of a place like that, right? Then again, they apparently kept a bunch in an old mansion in the woods so all bets were off. Nearly in sync with each other, Sara and I exited the car and walked into the police station. Though my return might be short lived, it was good to be back.


	3. Chapter 2: Enter the Survival Horror

**Chapter Two: Enter the Survival Horror**

The inside of the station was busy, as could be expected. The lobby was clear, except for the secretary, giving Sara and I a clean shot to the hallway that lead to the parts of the station that weren't usually open to the public, and more specifically to the offices/administrative area- which was packed, and full of activity. The first thing I noticed was that, like Sara, most of the officers were wearing those blue armored vests. The vests were definitely new, as I had never seen them before today. As I walked towards Chief Marsh's office a few heads turned my way. I ignored them for the most part, but I waved at a few of the people I felt I could call friends. Sara went to her desk- the one next to my old one- and started to double check her equipment.

I knocked on Marsh's door. I heard some shuffling of papers, and his gruff voice replied; "Come in!" Taking a deep breath to mentally steel myself, I turned the door knob and stepped inside. The Chief was seated at his desk, a stack of papers in front of him. He was a heavy set guy; overweight, but with a lot of muscle too, giving him a stocky, burly appearance. His hair was starting to thin out, but the hair he did have was mostly black, with white and gray peppered throughout. He had a cheesy looking walrus style moustache, which made the smile he gave me as I stepped into the room much more disconcerting somehow. His eyes seemed to bore into me as I sat down in the chair across from him. "Well," he said, leaning back in his chair, "I can imagine this comes as some surprise to you, Nick."

"Um. Yeah, I guess. What's this all about? Am I fired or what?" Marsh grinned at me, showing his teeth in a way that made me thing of a dog baring its fangs. I don't know if he was trying to be friendly or what, but between him and Irons, I was starting to wonder if _all_ police chiefs were creeps.

"Well," he began- then paused for a few moments as if in thought- "I haven't decided yet. Because on the one hand you did make a fool of yourself- and all of _us_ by association- but on the other... I've gotten word that the FBI and the military are going to take control of Umbrella HQ this afternoon, as part of the ongoing investigation. We're supposed to do the same for Umbrella's other holdings around the city, just to be safe. If they're going that far, well, we just might be able to spin your blunder into something positive after all. _Maybe_."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "And if Umbrella isn't behind what happened to Raccoon City?"

Chief Marsh laughed in response. "Oh, your ass is going to be out the door so fast your head'll spin. It's nothing personal- just trying to maintain a professional image, is all. Pardon the cliche, Nick, but you're a loose cannon- I want the people under my command to do what they're told, and not screw up when doing it. As long as you did that I had no problems, but that fiasco at the press conference has sent more than a few headaches my way."

"Sorry, Chief," I told him. I wasn't really sorry.

"Yeah, I am too," he grumbled, putting his hands on the keyboard to his computer. "Now hold on a minute, I'm going to brief you on your part in today's mission… if I can find it on this piece of junk." He was typing something, but had to search for each key that he wanted. I shifted in my seat, getting comfortable, letting my eyes wander around the room. At the very least, Chief Marsh kept his office clean- though I noticed he still had an old typewriter on one of the shelves. Apparently, it hadn't made him any better at typing.

Eventually, my eyes fell on the stack of papers he had on his desk. I craned my neck a little to get a better look, but kept an eye on Marsh as he continued to slowly type. From what I could read from the top page, they were medical records. What really caught my eye was that the one on top was mine. It looked pretty sparse- I had never been sick in my life, as far as I could remember, and other than regular checkups had never needed to visit one due to an injury thanks to first aid sprays. I wasn't surprised to see that my vitals were described as "exceptional" for that reason. Nor was I surprised to see the Umbrella logo on the page- any hospital in Chicago was bound to be affiliated with them in some way. It _did_ , however, make me glad I was able to stay in such good health.

Eventually, he found what he was looking for, and I stopped staring before he caught on. "Okay, here it is. Today's assignments. We've got about a quarter of the department assigned to this Umbrella thing- we're calling it 'Operation: Rainy Day'. The rest are going to be doing their normal duties."

I whistled; one fourth might not sound like an impressive figure, especially compared to Raccoon City's much smaller force, but in a city as big as Chicago that was over a thousand officers. In short- the name of the operation was very apt, and in more than one way, too.

"The law enforcement officers assigned to Rainy Day will work together in groups ranging from five to fifty officers to secure buildings and businesses owned by the Umbrella corporation. Warrants have been issued for entry and search, and if illegal activity is discovered arrests are to be made as usual. Otherwise, Umbrella employees are not under arrest but will be detained until further instructions are received."

"Your part in this operation," he continued, reaching into a different drawer on his desk to retrieve a file folder and handing it my way, "is to lead a team of eight, including yourself and your partner, Davies, in securing a warehouse used by Umbrella, located near the port. Wayne, Williams, Wolf, Cage, O'Connell and Jessica are the other members of your group."

He turned the computer off. "And that's it." A moment later he added, sarcastically, "Oh- and if you find any 'monsters', Nick, try not to let them kill you and your team. You're dismissed. We're moving out in a half-hour, so grab your gear and get ready. Davies should have the rest of the information on your assignment, including the warehouse's blueprint."

He didn't need to tell me twice. A few seconds later and I was up and at the door. As I was about to step outside again, he called out; "And don't screw _this_ up, too!"

He couldn't have done that before I opened the door? "Yeah, same to you, chief," I muttered under my breath as the door closed. His shouting had attracted attention back towards me, which I ignored as I started towards the armory to grab my gear. Sara quickly got up to join me.

"Hey," she asked, "so what's the verdict?"

"Well, aside from that snipe at the end I think it went about as well as could be expected," I told her, "but this isn't really a second chance. He's going to wait and see how the Umbrella investigation plays out, with me staying on the force depending on how it goes. If I'm right, he'll try and use that to make us look good; if I'm not, I'm out the door."

"Well… that's odd. I don't think that's standard procedure."

"Yeah," I shrug, "it's weird. Anyone else high up enough to say anything about it- other than him- probably have bigger fish to fry though. My guess is he's just trying to play his cards right so he comes out looking better, somehow."

"Hmm. I could see that, maybe. A small assignment like this one would be easy to sweep under the rug if it goes one way, while if it goes the other he can spin your participation into some positive PR."

"That's probably it. Anyways, I've got to go grab my stuff, and Marsh said you'd have some extra details on our assignment. Want to kill two birds with one stone and fill me in while I gear up?"

Sara nodded. "I'd have to go with you anyways since the code to the armory got changed a few days ago. I'll go grab the dossier on our mission." She returned to her desk, quickly retrieved a file, and came back- handing it to me. As we walked to the armory, taking a flight of stairs to the second floor along the way, I glanced down at the pages in the file periodically. The first page contained the information Marsh had given me, essentially, so I skipped it. The second was information on the warehouse itself- who had owned it previously, what was stored there (chemicals, for the most part), records of when stuff was moved to and from the location- stuff like that. It didn't look like anything important, so I just skimmed through it.

The third page was a blueprint of the warehouse, but I didn't get to take a good look at it since we had just arrived at the armory. I tucked it between my left arm as Sara entered the four digit code, then walked inside. It was looking a bit barer than usual at the moment- not cleaned out entirely, but it had clearly been raided for equipment recently. Not surprising, considering that nearly every officer at the station had been called in for duty. I opened my personal locker- the lock, unlike the electronic one outside, hadn't been switched out. It looked just like I had left it; I retrieved my belt, which held all the same things that Sara's had, plus my own personal sidearm.

The Samurai's Edge was the standard sidearm of S.T.A.R.S. A custom 9mm Beretta commissioned by the Raccoon City Police Department and designed by a well known gunsmith who lived in Raccoon City, the Samurai's Edge was already a great weapon; I had customized mine even further, giving it an under-the-barrel blue laser sight and a compensator for added firepower that was equivalent to a magnum. It had a smaller capacity than normal and kicked like a mule, too, but I was strong enough that it didn't give me too much trouble.

Although my career in Raccoon City had been short, and my career in Chicago was looking to be even shorter, it had served me well. It was a very nice gun, and one that held sentimental value. I wasn't looking forward to losing another reminder of my friends and city. I stowed it away in my holster, and took a deep breath.

"I know I already asked," Sara spoke up, quiet, "but are you going to be okay, Nick?"

"I'll be fine," I told her, turning to look her way and holding the file up, "I think we should get going soon. We're burning daylight. Everyone else has already read this, right?"

"Yeah. We still need to come up with a plan of action, though."

"Hmm," I hummed, opening the file and flipping to the second page again, "doesn't look they've received anything for a while now. I don't think we're in any danger-" I flipped to the third page, with the warehouse's blueprints, "-and there are only two entrances- the main doors, and a side entrance. We can split into two groups of four to cover each one, and-"

I stopped as Sara held up her hand. "All this strategy is good and all, but don't you think you should tell the others, too?" I blink.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that does make sense," I said, pausing to take a look at my watch, "it looks like we're going to be mobilizing soon. I'd imagine the others are waiting for us in the garage, or on their way there." I checked my belt again, to make sure everything was in place, before realizing that I was still missing something. "One more thing, Sara: I don't have a vest."

"Oh! Yeah, they're over here." She moved over to a different set of lockers, locker, pulling one open. It was packed, in a haphazard way, with short metal cases. "We haven't got a good spot for them yet," she explained, as she pulled one out. Two more were disturbed by the movement, and fell out with a clatter.

"I can tell," I said, kneeling down to pick the cases up and placing them back on top of the pile, "who organized this?"

"A few different people. I think Frank did this one."

"Ah." That sounded right; Frank was a nice guy and a decent cop, but he tended to slack off when it came to stuff like this. Sara opened the case up to reveal the body armor inside. I pulled the armor out of its case, and pulled it on over my head. It was decently heavy; twenty pounds at least, maybe more. Snug, too, but I had a pretty big frame. I rapped my knuckles against the metal plate that covered my heart. "Nice. What's next; heavy artillery?"

Sara scoffed. "You wish. We don't need to bring out the big guns to secure a warehouse."

"Hey, you never know. Who-"

"If the two of you are done playing dress up," Wolf said, entering the room, "it's time for us to move out." From his tone, I could tell he wasn't in a friendly mood.

Wolf was an older guy, around thirty, with a reputation for being a bit of a hardass. He was ex-military, and kept the same discipline as a police officer that he had as a soldier, as far as I could tell. The same mentality, too, I'd imagine; he was quick to anger and had a habit of holding grudges. He had a buzz cut that left him nearly bald, his dark hair almost looking gray against his skin; he was also cleanly shaven. He was glaring at me, too.

In response, I smiled and held a hand up in greeting. "Hey, Daryl," I said, using his first name because I knew he wouldn't like it.

Wolf's face hardened, and he stole a brief glance at Sara. "Hi, _Nick_ ," he said, putting emphasis on my name like he was using a different four letter word, "it's time to go."

"Yeah, we're aware. Thanks for the heads up."

He paused, then turned to leave,"Fine. Don't keep us waiting."

I turned to look at Sara after he left. "Was he one of the ones that were pissed at me?"

She let out a laugh, "Oh, yes. You should have heard him in the car the day after, he was pissed as hell."

"Well, I guess we should get going before he bursts a blood vessel."

"Yeah, that'd be a real shame," she said, dryly.

* * *

A few minutes later, and we were outside again. The others were crowded near our car. Daryl was near the driver side door, while everyone else was near the back of the car, standing near the road. Williams was sitting on the trunk, and nodded in our direction when he saw us. Williams was pretty average all around; brown hair, brown eyes, average features. He had a sort of tall, lanky build, and was just a few inches shorter than I was.

"Hello, Nick," he said, standing up. His face took on a serious look, and he stood up straight as he gave a salute, "Officer Williams, reporting for duty, sir!"

"At ease, Williams," I told him, taking on an equally serious mock tone and trying to keep a straight face.

His hand went back to his side, "Sir, yes sir!"

"O'Connell. Wayne," I nodded at the pair; I didn't talk to them all that often, but I felt like we were on good terms. They greeted me in turn. O'Connell was blonde and Wayne had brown hair. "Cage. Jessica." I turned to look down at Roger, who was looking up at me. "Roger." His tail started to wag when he heard his name. Jessica smiled at me; she had black hair, and both her partners had brown hair.

"Welcome back, Nick," Jessica said, "you've been missed."

"Thanks, Jessica. And I'm sorry to hear that. How's Roger doing?"

"He's doing good. He had most of his shots for this year a few days ago."

"Good to hear." I took a deep breath, and set the file down on the trunk of the car; pleasantries had been exchanged, and now it was down to business. "Okay. So, I don't think we're going to really need an in depth strategy…" I stopped for a moment as Wolf scoffed, loudly, before continuing, "…but here's what I'm thinking. There's no reason to split up, since the warehouse looks pretty open. I think we can ignore the side entrance for this reason," I pointed to the door that was on the left side of the building. "O'Connell, Wayne, Cage, and Williams, I want you four to open the sliding doors at the entrance. Sara, Wolf, Jessica, Roger and I will enter first and you'll come in behind us."

"Now, this is a warehouse so I'm not imagining we'll find anybody there. If we do, we'll detain them, as instructed, while we search the place. Then we just have to hold down the fort until told otherwise. Should be pretty simple, I think… but stay vigilant. If the military and the FBI have been called in, we need to be serious," I paused, as thoughts of Racoon City filled my head. I decided not to comment on it, though; it'd just be bad for morale, and by this point I think everyone in the city knew my thoughts on the subject.

"That's it. Unless anyone else has anything to add?" Shaking heads all around, "Okay, then let's get going."

O'Connell, Wayne, Cage, Jessica, and Roger left to get into their cars. O'Connell and Wayne were the first to leave, while the other three left a few moments afterwards, once Roger was secured in the back of their car. Williams shuffled off to his car, but didn't leave yet.

"Come on, Davies," Wolf said to Sara, "I'll drive this time."

"Uh, what?" I asked him. He looked at me, annoyed.

"She's partnered with me, now. You can ride with Williams."

"Isn't Williams your partner?"

"He is. But once you're gone, I'm going to be working with Davies- Chief Marsh said so himself, and I'm already working with her. Williams will probably get paired up with your replacement. Besides- I need to have a little chat with her about something."

"'Once I'm gone'," I repeated.

"Yeah."

"What makes you think I'm going to get fired?"

"Would you like a list?" he replied, folding his arms. The smugness was practically oozing off of him.

"You know what, Daryl, you're-"

"Nick, Wolf, stop," Sara said, "we've got to get going and this argument is pointless. I'll go with Wolf- since he _is_ technically right- and so I can hear whatever it is he has to say to me."

"Alright," I said, to them both, "okay." I walked away, and opened the passenger side door on Williams' car instead, getting inside. I glanced in the rear-view mirror to see that Sara hadn't gotten in her car yet, and was facing Wolf.

"That's rough," Williams said, quietly, "I'm glad that he's partnered up with someone else for now but, yeash. Sorry he kicked you out Nick." He started the car up and began to pull out of the parking spot. Another look back let me see that Sara still hadn't gotten in the car. I guess they were having that talk now.

"Well, Sara did that, but it's fine. She just didn't want to waste time on an argument, I think."

"Yeah, she doesn't like him any more than you or I. Wolf though, he really doesn't like you."

"I've picked up on that, Williams," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I'm not Wolf; you're allowed to call me Frank, Nick. And what can I say: I'm a keen observer of the obvious. But he seriously hates your guts," he paused for a moment as he turned a corner, "I'd watch out for him, if I were you."

"What? Why?"

"Don't get me wrong, I don't think he's going to snap and blow your head off or anything drastic like that. But he's prideful, and I think your, uh, outburst wounded that pride."

"The Chief said something like that, too."

"I'm not surprised. I think there are other fish to fry before anything comes of that, though. But he'll definitely be watching you like a hawk, and he might try and provoke you into doing something stupid."

"Frank, I've never done a stupid thing in my life." That got a chuckle out of him.

"Yes, you're the picture of perfect professionalism, without a doubt. But seriously. Try to stay on his good side, for today at least."

"I won't have to stay on his good side longer than today, I don't think," I said, "I think I'm a goner after today."

He gave me a concerned look. "Why do you think you're going to die?"

"What? No, I mean I'm going to get fired. I don't think I'm going to die or, uh, you know… it sucks and I'll have to figure something else out, but I plan on waking up tomorrow, same as always."

"That's good." The rest of the drive was spent in silence. It felt like there was a lot for me to think about now, and there was a niggling feeling in the back of my mind. Uneasiness over the events of the past few days, maybe, or anxiety for the future. Whatever it was, it didn't feel good.

* * *

We all arrived at the warehouse at around the same time, with Sara and Wolf being the last to arrive. Wolf had his usual, hard look on his face, but Sara was frowning. I didn't have the time to ask her what had happened- or the time to think if I even _should_ \- because it was time to get to work, now.

The warehouse- which was close to the waters of Lake Michigan- was smaller than I would've thought. About 10,000 square feet, and the walls were so short it didn't look like there was room for a second floor. The walls were made of concrete and metal, and the roof looked like it was made out of the same metal. Sturdy, but that wasn't so unusual I suppose- it would keep the weather out, which would be important if chemicals were stored in there. Windows small enough that a person couldn't fit through dotted the top part of the warehouse's walls, about one every thousand feet. Though they were small, they still looked sturdy- thick glass, with what looked like thin metal bars running through it. The entire property was encircled by a chain link fence and a gate, which was chained shut with a large padlock.

The building in front of me looked less like a warehouse, and more like a fortress.

"Sara, you've got your lock-picking kit, right?" I asked. She nodded in response, and I continued, "We'll need you to open the gate, then. The doors too, maybe. Does everyone remember the plan?" A murmur of assent from everyone except Wolf. I ignored him. "Follow the plan and regular procedures, and everything should go smoothly."

Sara dug out her lock-picking equipment, and got to work. In less than a minute, the gate was open. We quickly filed in; everyone was in position. Sara once again showed off her lock-picking finesse, and the front doors were open. O'Connell and Wayne grabbed the bars meant to help open the warehouse doors on the left, while Cage and Frank grabbed the ones on the right. I gave them a thumbs up, and with that they began to haul them open. Once the doors were opened far enough, we rushed in, handguns drawn- Sara to my right, Jessica to my left, and Roger in front of us. The others were fast behind us. Normally, we would announce ourselves at this point, but, there was no point.

The interior of the building was barren. There were metal shelves that divided the building into fourths, as well as ones lining the walls, but there were only a few boxes between all of them. I could tell there was no one inside, either, even through the dim light. A thin layer of dust covered the concrete floors and the metal shelving. It looked like nobody had been in here for a long time.

"Okay," I called out, "lets take a look around. Jessica, have Roger sniff around some of those crates."

A quick search of the building, and a quick look at the boxes, revealed nothing suspicious. The boxes- marked 'CHEM FLUID' in bright yellow or red letters- didn't seem to have anything unusual in them.

"Wait," Frank called out, "I think I found something!" We moved to meet him as he started to move a shelf aside, wheeling it to the side so he could point out a strange indentation in the ground where it had been. Thin lines were carved in a perfect rectangle in the concrete at the center, about 12 by 20 feet in width and length. Without warning, the stone suddenly started to move- slipping down and inward smoothly to form a ramp, leading down into a dark tunnel. Roger started to growl, his ear and tails down as he looked into the darkness.

"Jessica, why is Roger doing that?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," she answered, "but something has him on edge."

I was about to reach for a flashlight when a loud, metallic groan rang out from above us, and I noticed that there were sprinklers on the ceiling. I didn't see any smoke detectors, though, or even any lights for that matter. Suddenly feeling spooked, I spoke up, "Okay, maybe we should head outside and call this in-"

As soon as I said those words, the front doors to the warehouse quickly slammed shut. O'Connell- who had been at the edge of the group near Wolf and Frank- ran over to the side door, trying to open it. "It's locked!" he called out. Cage and Wayne ran over to the front doors, and called out the same- none of the doors were budging.

For a moment, a mixed feeling of dread and a very small amount of vindication washed over me. "Frank, call this in. Sara, see if you can get one of those doors open." Frank started to fiddle with his radio, but quickly reported that his didn't seem to be working. A quick check revealed that none of the other radios worked, either.

"This is some horror movie shit, right here," O'Connell said as he rejoined the group. Cage and Wayne were at the front door, while Sara examined the side door.

"Nick," she called out, "there aren't any locks on this side of the door."

That didn't sound good. "Cage, Wayne, are there any locks on those doors?"

"No," Cage said, "there's nothing like that." The two tried just about everything to get it to budge, but nothing seemed to be working. Eventually, Cage started banging on the doors, and Wayne gave up, coming back towards the hole in the ground.

"Alright, nobody panic. Try to find something that could help us get out. See if there's anything hidden, like a switch or button or something that might get those doors open." The pipes above us groaned ominously again. We spread out, and nearly turned the warehouse inside out as we searched for a means of escape. No one found anything; Cage went back to banging on the door, to see if he could get anyone's attention.

"Should we take a look in there," Wayne asked, "see if that has anything to do with this?"

"No, that's a terrible idea," Wolf argued, "we don't know what's down there. What if it's another trap? We should just sit tight; someone's going to come for us eventually." The pipes groaned once again; long and drawn out this time. A drop of water fell down on my shoulder from above. Then another; I held my hand out to catch one, and saw that the water had a slight green tinge to it.

The sound of the creaking pipes was soon overtaken by the sound of water rushing through them. "Heads down!" I shouted, calling out a warning just a little too late as green tinted mist started to come down from above. Curses and shouts of alarm and confusion went up as we whatever substance was coming through the pipes started to pout in around us.

"Fuck," Wayne shouted, "it's in my eyes! Ah, fuck, fuck, it burns!" What was this shit? Acid? It didn't seem to be hurting anyone else, but Wayne had gotten a face full of it.

"Roger, no!" Jessica called out. I felt the dog brush against my leg as he ran into the hole in the ground.

"Shit, shit, shit!" I lowered my arms to see that Frank had ducked in to the hole in the ground, Jessica hot on his trail. Wolf quickly followed them, taking his flashlight out as he went.

"Everyone into the hole" I shouted. I stumbled in Wayne's direction, grabbing both him and Sara by the arm and forcing them to move in the direction of the hole. O'Connell was next to go through, followed by the three of us. I took my flashlight out, and was glad I did as the ramp led to a landing, after which a metal staircase led further into the earth. If we had stumbled down there blindly, we could've fallen down- luckily, it seemed the others hadn't done that, as well. As we entered the landing, the concrete behind us shifted- locking us underground. There was silence for a few moments as we looked at our new surroundings, but there didn't seem to be anything here. With a start, I realized that Cage was still up there. Wayne was shaking, and I helped him keep steady; I could see that his face was starting to turn red.

"Goddamn it," Sara said. I agreed. I quickly examined the concrete wall that had once been the entrance to this underground tunnel we were in, but like before there were no signs as to how it could be opened.

"There's nothing we can do here," I said, "we need to keep going, and find the others. Sara, help Wayne. I'll take point." I passed him off to her, and drew my pistol, shining my flashlight down the steps as we descended into God knows where. We descended a few flights of stairs, the concrete eventually turning to some type of riveted metal as we reached the bottom. There was a steel door there, painted red and white; light shone from underneath it. I looked back to make sure that Sara was ready, and she drew her pistol, nodding. I turned the handle, and stepped inside.

"What the hell…?" We had entered a corridor; a tall, long, and well-lit one, in comparison to the tunnel we had been in. The walls were made out of steel; smooth, and painted white. The ceiling looked much the same, with halogen lights every few feet perfectly illuminating the hallway. The floor appeared to be made of marble, or some other white stone. The others were a few feet ahead of us; Jessica was on the floor, hugging Roger tightly as the German Shepard whimpered and whined. Wolf was crouched down beside her, a hand on her shoulder. Frank and O'Connell were off to the side, pistols drawn, staring down at the other end of the hallway. They both wheeled around as we appeared, as did Wolf, as the door closed behind us. A sense of impending doom came over me, for seemingly no reason at all; a chill went down my spine. I felt like I had seen a place like this before… or had I been in one? Both?

"Holy shit, are you guys okay?!" Frank asked, moving towards us. He helped Sara with Wayne, helping to lower him to the ground.

"Hurts," Wayne groaned, "my eyes are itchy."

"Don't scratch, it'll just make it worse." Frank said, looking at Sara, "You?"

"I'm fine. I think I avoided the worst of it," she replied.

"Nick? What about you?"

My head felt like it was swimming. My pistol clattered to the floor, and I looked down to see that my hands were shaking terribly. There was something familiar about all this, but I couldn't quite remember what it was.

"Nick?" It was Sara's voice this time. She sounded concerned. I turned to look at her, but my vision was going blurry. She was walking towards me, but with every step her shape became more and more unfocused. My body was starting to feel numb; I felt like I was going to collapse; I held a hand out against the wall to steady myself, but my wet hand slid against the metal, letting me fall to the ground instead. My head hit the tile floor. "Nick!" I felt, barely, Sara's hands on my back and arms as she rolled me over, another figure joining her. Frank, maybe.

As my vision started to turn black, I suddenly remembered one of my first memories, and realized why this all seemed so familiar. A voice, that of a young man's, echoed inside my head as the scene unfolded in front of me.


	4. Chapter 3: Hour Zero

**Chapter Three: Hour Zero**

The blond boy was the first to speak, "Another experiment, Marcus?" He was young, though not as young as the brown haired boy beside him- a college freshman, maybe, while the other boy looked like he was still a teenager. Despite their young ages, both of them wore white lab coats, as did the much older man that came to join them, who was mostly gray with flecks of white and black peppered throughout. All three of them stood over me, from what I at first thought was a cage. There were straps across my chest, to keep me from moving too much. But even they weren't there, I knew I wouldn't be able to move anyways- this dream always played out the same way, no matter how hard I tried to change it. The world outside, I knew, was made out of stone brick and humming machines, and inhabited by men and women in white coats. Some of them were somewhat nice- bringing me food, or a blanket on colder nights.

But I also knew that many of them were not so kind.

"Yes," the older man, Marcus, answered; "another experiment. Unlike the others, this one should be able to survive the infection. It has survived every trial and test so far, even ones that others had previously failed. Surpassing even those who shared its genes. I hypothesize that this may be due to it being allowed to age naturally- its cells have been growing stronger over the same period of time, heightening the immune system and strengthening the body."

"And this offshoot of Progenitor; this 'Prototype' Virus- if it's meant to do as you say, than why use it on a," the brown haired boy paused, "on him, of all things?"

"A good question, young William, though I must remind you not to refer to the subjects with such terms as 'him' or 'her'. Refer to it by its number, if you must. In any case, this study is being conducted to see if we can remove an… unfortunate limitation required to bring out the virus's full effects."

"And what limitation is that?" the blond boy asked.

"Ah… namely, the requirement for massive bodily trauma. The Prototype Virus bonds with its host, but it lies dormant until grievous physical harm befalls the body it's inhabiting- once that happens, the virus boosts the metabolism of the host so that the virus can survive- granting increased healing abilities and a longer lifespan, among other benefits. Unfortunately, in most cases the virus is too strong for the host to survive the infection- it acts as a cancer, instead, essentially devouring the host from the inside out. Individuals with certain genetic structures can avoid this, but even when the infection is successful, the damage required for it to activate is imprecise. Too little, and it won't activate- too much, and the damage might be too severe for the virus to counteract. Either one could be fatal for the host-"

"-and impractical for its intended purpose," William finished.

"Correct. Because the Prototype Virus adapts to and bonds with the host upon infection, my hope is that the subject's unique genetics will help unlock the virus's potential. Ideally, the virus would be activated immediately, or a few days afterwards- but it's also possible that it will activate as the subject ages, instead. In that case, further observation will be required."

"Of course," the blond boy spoke, "this is all if it doesn't just die immediately. Or if it survives, but the Prototype Virus is destroyed, instead. Or any number of things that could go wrong."

"The troubles of all great scientists. This project is of especial importance to our founder, so we must succeed, in one way or another. You both should be honored to be a part of it. If the first experiment is a failure, then we'll just have to try something else with the second, and so on with the third and fourth, until we are successful." Marcus rested his hands on the edge of the crib for a moment; they were wrinkled, and the veins stood out against the rest of his skin. He looked pensive, "Whatever it takes…" William and the other boy glanced, briefly, at each other. A moment later, and Marcus snapped out of it. He reached his left hand into the pocket of his lab coat, withdrawing a syringe of purple liquid.

"William, if you would be so kind as to hold its head still, I'll inject the virus into the subject's neck."

William stepped close and reached inside of my crib. His hands trembled slightly, but he took a firm hold of my head all the same. I could only stare upwards as Marcus brought the syringe down towards my face. I usually woke up at this point, as the needle pierced my neck. As the virus was injected into my body, the sound of wailing- my younger self- replaced all other sound. Marcus's lips moved, but I couldn't tell what he was saying. I focused on his name tag, instead- Director James Marcus. And next to his name-

An octagon. Red and white, red and white, alternating. Umbrella's logo. The scene faded away, blurring and blackening until only an inky void remained. This nightmare, this piece of my past, it wasn't the only thing I could remember. I could remember something from before that time. A confusing jumble of memories… from a past life? Was that even possible?

* * *

My past self was walking down a dirt road, the path lined with trees and patches of grass and pine needles. Like before, I couldn't move myself. In a way, it was almost like watching a movie, only I could sense other things, too, including a vague idea of what I was feeling at the time. Boredom, mostly. I was listening to music- I can't tell who the singer was, but it was a man. I could remember that I did this often; for exercise, and to clear my mind. I could also that tell my body was different, too; I was shorter, less muscular. Couldn't bend as far. My body had been changed; that was part of the deal.

The deal?

Something catches my eye, and I look to the side. It takes me a few seconds to realize what I'm looking at, but when I do I recoil, gasping and stepping backwards in surprise and horror. "W-what the fuck?!" I take another step back, right into a pothole, and trip- falling flat on my ass.

"Hehehe," the man chuckled as he stepped out from behind the tree, "I was wondering when you'd notice me, stranger." He had a heavy Cockney accent; it wasn't enough to make him hard to understand, but it was definitely noticeable. He wore a black, hooded overcoat that looked like it had been beat to hell, as well as a purple cloth over his face that was embroidered with simple designs in white and black. He also had a large, light brown backpack that looked like it had been packed practically to bursting; to carry its weight he had to bend his torso, making it look like he had a hunched back. Despite his strange- and strangely familiar- clothing, his most notable feature was his face.

He was deathly pale, nearly gray in skin tone. There were lines on his face, but he didn't look old; rather, it looked like the lines were due to heavy scarring. Strangest of all, his eyes had an orange glow to them that almost looked like fire in their intensity. Yet, despite this, when my past self stood up I seemed almost relieved- amused, even.

"You scared the shit out of me!" I said, as I started to brush off my pants. "Nice Merchant costume though. What are those, contacts? Wait," I said, stopping to scan my surrounding, "is this a prank? Do you have a camera around here somewhere?"

The 'Merchant' laughed again,"This is no prank, stranger. I've got something that might interest ya." He opened the left side of his coat; my past self shouted and put his hands in front of my face to block the view. The man cleared his throat after a few seconds, and my past self lowered his hands, slightly.

"Oh, thank God," I said, laughing nervously afterwards and dropping my hands to my side- presumably because the Merchant had _not_ flashed me like I had thought. Instead, the man had a few curious items tucked away in his coat, held in place by loops that were just the right size to hold them up. A large, brass key, a file folder, and a bulging purple velvet pouch. I stepped closer to take a look; unnervingly, I could tell that the man wasn't breathing, though my past self seemed more concerned with the items the Merchant had in his coat. "Sorry, I think I left my wallet at home. My gold, jewels, and assorted priceless artifacts too."

The Merchant shook his head; "No charge for these, stranger. I just want you to do something for me."

"Uh, okay, what do you want?"

"I want you to listen to my offer. I want to make you a deal. I have a feeling that you'll like it."

"...sure."

"Stranger- have you ever heard of 'Jumpchain'?"

At the man's question, my past self seemed to tense up for a moment- and then I could feel my fists clench. I was angry, and nervous."What the fuck is this? Why are you here? Are you from-" The Merchant chuckled, and shook his head. He carefully withdrew the key from inside of his coat, and turned around, walking back behind the tree. My past self stood there for a few seconds, in disbelief. "Hey, wait!"

I moved to follow the Merchant, only to discover something even more peculiar. On the other side of the tree, the strange man's key had been embedded into the bark. However, he himself was nowhere to be seen- it was if he had disappeared into thin air. Eventually I looked up, but he wasn't hanging from a branch, either. I reached a hand out, tentatively, towards the key- my hand retreating as soon as it touched the cold metal. Eventually, I worked up the courage to try and grasp it, but try as I might I couldn't pull it out of the bark.

"I wonder…" Instead of trying to remove the key, I tried to turn it- first to the left, and then to the right. I stepped backwards as the bark easily slid to the right, like a curved closet door. I gasped; of all the strange sights I had seen, what was on the other side of door was the strangest- a massive concrete room, brightly lit by fluorescent lighting. Standing in the middle of the room, behind a wooden desk with a chain in front of it, and flanked to his left and right by torches that burned a dark blue, was the Merchant.

My past self reached an arm out in front of myself, sticking it through the doorway as if he wasn't sure if it was real. When I stuck my hand all the way in- past the point where it should have come out the other side of the tree- I jerked back, running the same hand through my hair. For a few moments I stood there, looking at the obviously supernatural thing that was in front of me. Finally- to my embarrassment- my past self squealed, "NO FUCKING WAY!" and practically jumped through the doorway. I wasn't sure what I was expecting my reaction to be, but that wasn't it. I quickly started walking towards the Merchant, looking around to take in the massive room; however, it was barren for the most part.

When I reached the Merchant, he motioned at the chair. Without hesitation, I took a seat. It was a nice chair, with leather upholstery; comfortable, too. The type you'd see in a CEO's office, maybe. I was nearly bouncing up and down on it in my excitement when the man opposite me spoke, "So, is that a yes, then?"

"Yes," I nearly shouted, before reigning myself in-maybe not enough, in hindsight- "I mean, yes please! Of course!" Apparently, my past self knew something about all of this that I didn't quite understand now.

The Merchant chuckled, and reached into his coat once more- pulling out the file, this time, as well as the bag. "Standard rules, with the exception of no diminishing returns and no limits on how many companions you can have at once. I'll try and give you an experience close to what you're used to. I think you know which one I want to send you to first." I didn't quite get what he was saying, but my past self nodded along as if I did. He set the file down in front of me, and poured the contents of the bag- a large number of golden coins- down on the table. Somehow, as the coins fell from the bag they 'naturally' stacked themselves into thirty-two even stacks. "Pesetas," the man explained, picking one up and holding it out, "with my own special touch, hehehe."

My past self took the coin, examining it; on one side there was an image of a strange, cross-like symbol. It had four "arms", ending in curved, arrow-like points, with the first two coming off the top like a 'T' and the bottom two arms below those. The bottom of the 'T' was also pointed. Looking at it almost reminded me of a spider.

When I flipped it over, my past self leaned back in the chair like he had been floored. "No way! Is this really happening?!" On the other side, in a simple font, were two letters: C and P.

The Merchant laughed, "You're not dreaming, stranger. And before you ask- I'm not the devil, God, yourself from the future, or anything like that. I've been given many names and forms, but for now you can just call me your Benefactor. That's what you like to call me, right?"

"Usually, yeah," I agreed, setting the coin back down on top of the stack.

I opened the file, and as soon as I did a voice- which seemed to emanate from the file itself- growled deeply, "RESIDENT EVIL!" I jumped up, dropping it- spilling out a few scattered pages, as well as a gold and burgundy colored pen that had been tucked inside of the file. The Benefactor seemed amused by this, as he let out another 'hehehe', slapping his knee.

"Stranger," he chuckled, "you've gotta toughen up if you want to survive the world I'm sending you to!"

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, "is that going to happen with all of them?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Now, you'll probably want to start. I'm going to give you Body Mod to start with, too, but you'll have to earn this," he motioned to our surroundings, "by surviving the perils of-"

"RESIDENT EVIL!" the file interjected.

"Okay, I guess I'll take a look at the Body Mod first," I said, "get a good baseline to work off."

My Benefactor nodded, waving his hand at the file. The pages that had been scattered around the table re-stacked themselves, with one that looked distinctly different from the others ending up on top. 'Body Mod' was written across the top in cyan letters, while the rest of the document was white text on a black background, unlike the black on white of the other pages. Twelve stacks of CP slid over, separating themselves from the others.

Taking up the pen, I began to fill out the document. I had a budget of six-hundred 'CP' to spend, on various options, all of which would change my appearance in various ways. I picked a 'Heavy' build, with an 'Athletic' body type. Two of the stacks of CP disappeared when I made my choices. I didn't stop to read the options in detail; apparently, I already knew what I wanted.

"Will I be able to change my mind?" I asked, abruptly. Okay, maybe I didn't know, then.

My Benefactor nodded. "If you want to. You'll have to do so before you say you're done, of course. The ink will disappear, and the CP will reappear. Do you want to change your mind on something?"

"No, I was just curious." I went back to filling out the document, flipping it over to look at the other side. Three of the options- Speed, Dexterity, and Flexibility- were already filled in. Speed and Dexterity were a two, while Flexibility was a one. I put a two next to Strength and Endurance as well- causing two-hundred more Pesetas to disappear. I ignored the other options of Sense, Shape, and Appeal, and moved on to the other options- picking 'Evercleansed' and 'Metavore'; I had one-hundred Pesetas left to spend. My pen hovered over an option called 'Endowed'. I looked up at my Benefactor, who was looking at me, expectantly. I put a one nest to the 'Height' option instead, and the last of the CP that had been set aside disappeared.

"Is that final?" my Benefactor asked. I hesitated, and he continued, "Take your time. There's no rush."

"Right. Thanks." I flipped the page over a few times, looking at the options I had selected. Eventually, I nodded my head, "Okay, I think I'm done."

"Sure about that?"

"...agh!" I groaned, and flipped the page for another minute or two, carefully considering each of the selected options.

Heavy- Larger shoulders; no change in body fat or height, just added mass. (Free)

Bodybuilder- Great physical prowess; improved strength and stamina. (-100)

Strength (3)- Muscles are very present. Lift 2x own body weight. (-50)

Endurance (3)- Great damage resistance; run back to back marathons. (-50)

Dexterity (2)- Acrobatics and fine control; can do basic parkour. (-100)

Height (1)- Become up to 1 foot taller than average for current age. (Free)

Flexibility (1)- Extreme flexibility, at the limit of your body. (-100)

Metavore- Retain physical fitness despite overeating or poor nutrition. (-100)

Evercleansed- Always be clean, as if you just stepped out of a shower. (-100)

"Yeah, okay, I think I'm good," I said. My Benefactor looked at the sheet, nodded, and tucked it inside his coat. "So, are you going to, uh…?" I made some hand motions towards myself, as if urging him to do something.

He shook his head, "I could. But you're going to start your adventure once you finish the other document, so…"

"Right, right. That makes sense." I scooted the file towards me-

"RESIDENT EVIL!"

-and began to read once more. Unlike with the Body Mod, I carefully read each option as I went. Eventually, my Benefactor spoke up once again. "By the way, there are a few things you should know," I looked up, and he continued, "the first is that, yes, time will be frozen here while you're gone and yes, if you die you'll come back safe and sound. The second is that, to ensure that you can withstand the rigors of your journeys…" More coins appeared on the table, until they had doubled, "…you're required to take one-thousand points of drawbacks for this world."

I protested, "What? But… Resident Evil is already dangerous! Especially if I go there first!"

"Choose wisely, then."

I sighed, heavily, but nodded, flipping through the pages until I was near the back of the stack. It seemed that despite my reluctance, taking a large amount of drawbacks wasn't a deal breaker.

Drawbacks, apparently, gave CP instead of taking them away. I went through the list; three of the drawbacks gave nothing, and extended my time in this world by a decade, made all the crows in this world look like my late supervisor from Raccoon City, Captain Albert Wesker… for some reason… and the last made it so instead going to the 'world of the games' I went to the 'live-action movies' instead.

The ones that gave one-hundred CP seemed to be relatively minor in severity; one would make me lose an eye, another would make my hands shake so it was harder to aim, another would make me shout the name of anybody who ticked me off, and the last sent a bounty hunter after me.

The two-hundred ones made me walk with a limp, made me an egomaniac, made it harder to find ammunition and healing supplies, or made it so others would keep it secret if they were infected with viruses or 'bitten'. After some deliberation, I decided to pick the last two.

The three-hundred ones were even worse. One made it so that pharmaceutical corporations- such as Umbrella- would constantly try to get a hold of me thanks to some rare genetic marker. The other made mention of Albert again, and said that he found me 'interesting' and that he was 'interested in my body, not my mind'. I always thought he was a bit of a creep; wearing his sunglasses all the time, speaking like a Bond villain when he was a Chicago native- not to mention that weird picture he took of Rebecca in a basketball outfit when she became a member of S.T.A.R.S. But I never got a gay vibe from him, so what I could read from the drawback left me confused. It also said that he 'wanted to become a god' and that he'd stop at nothing to achieve that. I wasn't sure if this was a joke or not; the drawback earlier that made crows look like him was weird enough, but this one left me wondering for a different reason.

The other two drawbacks made it so that I would always have terrible luck, especially when it came to matters of business, and the last caused 'B.O.W.s' to be increased in effectiveness, would prevent me from resisting the viruses they carried, and would cause them to 'mutate' in a way that was more potent than before. At this point, I started to wonder what the hell I had gotten myself into.

There was one final drawback, worth six-hundred CP- much more than the other two. It sealed away my 'powers' and 'companions', made it so I would start out in front of the 'Spencer Mansion' before 'the shit-storm goes down', would make it so that there are more zombies and whatever B.O.W.s are, and that I'd get caught up in every major bioterrorism attack after that. Was it talking about the mission Chris and the others went on?

I felt at a loss; were all of these attacks on the same scale as Racoon City was? To be part of something that gave so much CP, how many would there be? It was a disturbing thought, and I was glad that I had the wisdom not to pick it- instead, I filled out the rest of my drawbacks with the one that made Umbrella and other companies want me because of a rare gene, and the one that made Captain Wesker want me for some reason. The first one I had mixed feelings on; on the one hand, I knew Umbrella was dangerous, and capable of monstrous things. It also helped explain why we had walked into a trap. But on the other hand, Umbrella was on its way out, and it wasn't like every pharmaceutical company was making bio-weapons, right? The other one… well, Wesker was dead. Maybe my past self had found a loophole, or knew something that I didn't. Either way, I didn't feel like I had much of a reason to worry about him.

"Okay, I think I've made my choices. Wesker and Umbrella are going to be a problem, but I don't want to cripple myself too badly right out of the gate," I said.

"Nice choices, stranger," my Benefactor said, "I've got to say, I'm a bit surprised by some of them. An awful lot of big ones, dontcha think?"

I shrugged, "Go big or go home, I guess. Wesker and Umbrella are going to be dealt with regardless of what I do, so me being there can only help with that, right? And while the 'hiding a bite' thing is lame, it shouldn't give me too much trouble."

"Oh? Want to take a few more then? No extra points, but if it's not _challenging_ enough for you…" I vigorously shook my head, and the man laughed again. "Hehehe. You won't have to worry about lack of supplies either, at least not at first," my Benefactor said, motioning to the CP coins. "In fact- I'll give you a leg up." He waved his hands, and a small, ornate wood and gold chest appeared on the table.

Naturally, I opened it up right away. Inside was yet more CP. "Wow, uh, thanks," I said, "I don't know how I'm going to spend all this, but- thanks!"

"It's for items only. And even so," my Benefactor said, "not enough cash to buy everything you'll want, I reckon."

"Tell me about it."

"Still- you'd best get crackin'."

I nodded in response, and began the long process of filling out the document. There were more pages than the previous document, with a sheet at the end providing a short summary of the options I chose.

* * *

JUMP ONE: Resident Evil

STARING LOCATION: Chicago, Illinois

AGE: 20

ORIGIN: Law Official

PERKS: Keen Eye- Proficiency with firearms. (Free)

Antibodies- Increased resistance to viruses and parasites. (-600)

S.T.A.R.S. Training- Superior combat skills and instincts. (-300)

Recoil? What Recoil?- Strength to nullify recoil of most firearms. (-100)

Loot Piles- Find ammunition, healing items, and rare items on enemies. (-50)

Hypnos Gene- Improves cells overtime, boosts power of capstones. (-300)

COMPANIONS: Wandering Judge- Police officer. Master of Unlocking. (-250)

The Pursuer- Prototype of Nemesis B.O.W.; weaker, but more human. (-200)

ITEMS: Personal Kit- Various useful items. (Free)

Body Armor- Can withstand some small arms fire. (Free)

PC356- Pistol. Very open to custom modifications. (Free)

Badge- Badge representing current allegiance. (Free)

Power Limiter- Bulletproof coat, allows powers to be dialed down. (-100)

Prototype Sample- Prototype Virus used by Albert Wesker. (-150)

H&K MP5- Machine-gun. Pumps out damage quickly. (-50)

S.T.A.R.S. Training Manual- Special Tactics and Rescue techniques. (-50)

Albert-01- Extremely high-powered pistol. (-150)

DRAWBACKS: Keeping Secrets- Infected people are hard to detect. (+200)

Strapped for Cash- Ammunition and healing items are rare to find. (+200)

Corporation Games- Umbrella, Tricell, and others wish to study you. (+300)

Road to Godhood- Albert Wesker needs your body for his plans. (+300)

This is what my past self ultimately decided on buying. Some of it made sense, both in the sense that they were practical choices for survival and that it fit with what I knew about my life. If this was my past self, it made sense that my actions now would affect my future, right? Frustratingly, some of the options my past self-barely glanced over before picking them; these also tended to be the more expensive ones, so I hoped I knew what I was thinking.

The things that stood out to me, immediately, was that I had two 'companions'. The Wandering Judge seemed to fit Sara pretty well, so that must be her… but who was the 'Pursuer' meant to be? It mentioned something about a 'Nemesis' and a parasite, so it sounded pretty sketchy, to me. It was also an epicurean, so that should be interesting. I had also picked up the same 'Prototype' virus that I had dreamed about, a 'Hypnos Gene' which must've been what Umbrella was after, and a handgun that shared the first name of Wesker. It was an overwhelming amount of information to process, and the worst part was I only had bits and pieces to go off of while my past self zoomed through the document. If I didn't pay close attention, I would miss it- which was disorienting in its own way. With all of my 'CP' gone, I thought I was done- but in their place a collection of twenty beakers, filled with various shades of liquid, appeared. The letters 'GP' were etched on each one.

"Onto your virus, then," my Benefactor said, reaching into the other side of his coat and pulling out yet another file, "here you go. Should have everything you need, unless you change your mind on something else."

"Right, this should be interesting," my past self said. Once again, I had to 'sit' and watch as he flipped through page after page of text, occasionally filling something out, until the beakers had all been emptied.

VIRUS BASE: 'Prototype' (Free)

INFECTION METHOD: Injection (Free)

ACTIVATION REQUIREMENT: Trauma Trigger (Free)

CONTROLLED INFECTION: Rare Condition or Genetic Type (Free)

TIME UNTIL ACTIVATION: Immediate (Free)

MODIFICATIONS: Painful Revelation- Greatly reduces pain felt. (-100)

Denial of Retrieval- Virus requires special chemicals to extract. (-100)

Berserker- Increased combat instincts. (-100)

Brain Pan- Can survive headshots with no loss of memory. (Free)

Mental Clarity- Boosts resistance to insanity. (Free)

Bulked Up- Increased strength and durability. (Free)

Speed Boy- Enhanced speed and agility. (-200)

Healing Factor- Heal non-fatal wounds in seconds and limbs in minutes. (-300)

Bouts of Speed- Greatly increased speed in bursts, greatly enhanced vision. (Free)

Enhanced Senses x4- All senses except taste are enhanced. (-200)

SETBACKS: Remove Serum Needs- Virus does not need maintenance. (-100)

Mind Over Monster- Infection can be suppressed with willpower. (+100)

"That's a potent virus, you have there," my Benefactor said, "sure you don't want to share it with the world?"

"Nah," I replied, "seems like that'd be irresponsible. Just stick it in me right off the bat… er, but not in a weird way, please."

My Benefactor merely chuckled in reply.

After quickly checking my work, my past self- apparently satisfied- pushed the document forward as if it was a plate, and I had just finished a large meal. "I think I'm done with this one, too," I said.

My Benefactor nodded, and collected the file, stuffing it back into his coat. "Wise choices, mate. Good luck on your journey-"

"Wait!" My Benefactor froze as I leapt up. "I don't want to seem ungrateful or anything- this is amazing! I never would have thought I'd get this chance. But," I took a deep breath, "there are some things I want clarification on."

"Hehehe. Understandable, I suppose. Alright: three questions, then."

"First off- what's with the getup?"

"Just a bit of fun on my part," my Benefactor said. Suddenly, the torches disappeared and his appearance flickered, being replaced by a bearded warrior wearing a horned helmet and leather armor, a sword in hand, "I could just as easily look like this…"

My Benefactor's appearance changed again, this time to a futuristic looking suit of armor painted red and gold, "…or this…" He turned into a slim looking boy with long brown hair wearing black body armor and a bug-like mask, the sword changing into a baton. "…or even this…" The last form he took on was unmistakably Superman. 'Superman' looked off to the side, and a moment later two red beams shot out of his eyes, scorching the concrete where they hit.

"Wow," I said, "can you turn into Power G- uh, never mind."

My Benefactor gave me a stern look, which was greatly amplified since it was coming from someone who looked like Superman of all people. "I could," he admitted, changing back into his 'Merchant' appearance, "but since you didn't waste a question on it, I won't."

"Aw. Alright, second question: why did you pick me? There are tons of people more deserving of this than me, right?"

"Deserving," he answered, rolling the word in his mouth as if it had weight, "maybe. There are many who are just as undeserving, by your metrics. But, to be honest, there _are_ a few reasons why I picked you."

"The first is that you've professed a desire to send other people on their own adventures once you got back. This would help me find future entertainment much more easily. The second is that I think you're cautious enough to avoid getting into most unwinnable situations of your own design, foolhardy enough to still be entertaining, and desperate enough that you'll most likely never quit-"

"That was, like, three different reasons in one."

"-the last reason, is that picking _someone_ to do this thing is how it's supposed to go. Why not start with you?"

I paused. "Can you elaborate on that last part a little bit?"

"Hehehe. It's just how things are," my Benefactor said, as if he was offering sage advice, "I have no idea of how I came to be. I _do_ know that I was born with an intense desire to see other people go on adventures, and that I felt compelled to visit this world, despite it's apparently mundane nature. Your world… it seems mundane at first, but in the vastness of the Omniverse it has exactly one supernatural trait that I haven't seen anywhere else: certain people in your world are unusually in tune with what is happening in other worlds with nearly unerring accuracy, and have an intense desire to share it with others in some form. Movies, TV shows, video games, books, all forms of media… it's all happening, somewhere. _That_ is the magic that your world possesses. _Those_ people are your world's wizards."

"Now… hehehe… the _real_ question is- these connections to other worlds; are they _really_ just connections… or are you _making_ them? I don't know for certain; whatever is really at play here is beyond me, despite my power, despite my knowledge. But what does that mean for me, and the people who began this game that you play? What does it mean for _you_ , someone who has written hundreds of pages and thousands of words in dedication to this game? What connection do you have with me, and the others?"

We both sat in silence there, for some time. Eventually, my Benefactor let out a sigh. "It's something for both of us to think about, I suppose. You need to get on your way. I'll be watching, so don't forget to put on a good show, eh?" He held out his hand, and my past self went limp in the chair, head lolling to the side as his.

As my vision faded and I slipped into unconsciousness- just like in my last dream- my Benefactor had a few final words to say: "Hehehe… thank you."

* * *

I awoke with a jolt, to the sensation of Sara and William both trying to shake me awake. My brain felt like it had gone through a blender, got glued back together, and then shook up in a cement mixer. I tried to talk, but could only mumble incoherently for a few moments as my brain was suddenly filled with another set of memories. I'd imagine it's something similar to what an Alzheimer's patient would experience; my memories seemed both wrong and right at the same time. Did I grow up in an orphanage, or did I have parents that were divorced? Was I an elite cop, or a clueless idiot? Was I an extra-dimensional traveler, or was I insane? My body felt strange, too, and I was covered in sweat. Was it the gas, or was that just a consequence of the episode that happened just now?

There was only one thing I was certain of; I _never_ wanted to have anything like that happen again.

"Oh, thank God," Sara said; I looked up at her. I hadn't realized it before now, but she looked nice… even after getting splattered with that green water. Before, I had been too much of a professional. I was, for a while, technically above her in the hierarchy as both a trainer and an officer, so I had never even _considered_ \- wait-

Shit; that probably wasn't just any water. This was obviously one of Umbrella's many secret labs or facilities, which meant that it could be contaminated with any number of deadly viruses. Everyone here- except me, of course, since I was the next best thing to immune- was probably infected. But to be safe we all needed to get a cure. And we needed to get this stuff off our skin, and ideally we'd all get into some clean clothes, too.

"Damn it," I swore, standing up, "everyone, we've got to get clean, quick. Whatever that stuff was, it wasn't anything good for us. How's everyone holding up?"

"I'm fine," Sara said, sounding concerned; she put a hand on my shoulder. "Nick, what happened to you just then? You were out cold for a few minutes, and then you started mumbling something about 'chains', or maybe 'brains'. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, too," I told her, brushing her hand away, "we've got bigger worries. Frank, how are you and Wayne doing?"

"I'm alright," he answered, "Wayne is-"

Wayne was starting to tear up, "I-I- It's getting harder to see, Nick. My vision's getting spotty." He leaned over and started to cough into his arm; it sounded like he was hacking up a lung, and he groaned in pain when he was done.

"We need to get Wayne some help," I called out, "has anyone seen something that can tell us where we are?" They both shook their heads no; Sara looked like she wanted to say something, but when she didn't I moved on.

I took another look around; the corridor we were in had no other doors that I could see, which meant we'd have to go further inside if we wanted to get anywhere. I moved towards the others,"O'Connell, Wolf, what about you two?"

"Fine, Nick. A little shook up, but fine," O'Connell said.

"I'm goodt, too," said Wolf.

"Jessica, how about you and Roger?"

"I'm fine, but Roger, he's really acting strange and agitated. He keeps pacing and looking around like there's danger, but-" Jessica was cut off when Roger, who she had put back on his leash while I was out, suddenly tugged on it, hard- knocking her off her feet and causing the leash to jerk out of her hands, as Roger took off running further into the facility. "Roger, NO! Come back!"

The German Shepard didn't listen, ignoring his master's commands in a way that was highly uncharacteristic for what I knew was a well-trained police dog. Jessica quickly got to her feet to give chase, but I grabbed her arm just in time to stop her. "Jessica, wait! We need to take care of Wayne first." She angrily shrugged away from me, but didn't protest. "Help Wayne. Frank, you too. I'll take point; we need to find a medical station, or an infirmary- something along those lines. A map would be helpful, too, if you spot one."

Reluctantly, Jessica moved to do as I asked, and the two of them helped carry Wayne with us as we walked further down the hallway. There was only one way to turn, so I motioned for them to stay behind me as I crept towards the corner, carefully checking what was on the other side.

"Oh my god," I whispered, as I saw the carnage that waited for us. The hallway led to a massive foyer, with a large fountain and a crystal chandelier in the center of it. There was a staircase with red carpeting behind it, which forked to the left and right. There were also dead bodies, all over the room- some of them looked like they had been shot, while others… were missing limbs, or had been torn apart. The water in the fountain ran red, and the stench of decay and blood assaulted my nose.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Wolf said as he joined me; Sara turned the corner as well, and quickly expressed similar sentiments.

"Oh, no," Jessica gasped, and Wayne's arm nearly slipped from around her as she covered her mouth.

"What happened here?" Frank wondered aloud.

"Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho!" I drew my pistol as a voice that sounded like it belonged to a game show host rang out in the spacious room; Sara and Wolf doing the same. "I hope you find these accommodations to your liking, Mr. Brandt. It took some time for me to… redecorate… and I'd hate for the hard work of my loyal workers and myself to go to waste."

I noticed that there were a set of speakers near the the top of the staircase, obscured slightly by the chandelier. "Who's there," I demanded, "What is this? What have you done?"

"Such poor manners!" the voice gasped, "No introductions! A stream of demands! Don't you know what to do when someone has invited you into their home?" The voice chuckled, a more sinister undertone creeping into his voice, "At least you've brought me some presents to play with. Unlike you, Mr. Brandt, I have class, so I will tell you my name. I, am Director Howard Byron, the scientist in charge of this humble facility which my workers… heh, my FORMER workers… called, 'The Zoo'."

"Why's that?"

"Well," the voice answered, "you'll just have to find out, won't you? I'm sure you'll encounter some of my 'pets' or workers soon enough. And if not, well… my masters have been kind enough to send me a few 'special operatives' to dispose of your friends. And yourself, if you prove to be troublesome."

"That's nice," I called out in reply, "your friends better be ready to throw down. Because when I find you, I'm not going to put you in cuffs, Howard."

"Oh! Oh! Was that a threat! That was a threat, wasn't it! I can't remember the last time I got one of those! Well, Mr. Brandt, I have threats for you, too." Howard cleared his throat.

"The only way you'll leave this place alive, is if it's as our faithful dog. Your friends, are already as good as dead. This entire facility is filled with some of the most deadly creatures I, or any other scientist in our organization, have ever designed- ready to be guided directly by my gentle hand, of course. Not only are you in my domain, under my control… but I have the powers of death on my side." Howard took a moment to laugh, tittering as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Well... at the very least I've got a MR. Death on my side."

I froze; in this world, 'Mr. Death' could only mean one person, as my first set of memories helpfully told me. One of Umbrella's top agents, HUNK- which stood for 'Human Unit, Never Killed', if I remembered correctly- more than lived up to his name. He had completed countless missions for Umbrella, had gone up against some of the deadliest monsters this world had to offer, and had come out of all of that alive- even when everyone else who went with him had died. If he was here, our chances of survival had taken a drastic turn for the worse.

"Oh, and by the way, Mr. Brandt," Howard continued, "if you want to get some help for your friends, you should head to the lab. First door on the right side of the second floor; you can't miss it. Now, if you'll excuse me I think there are a few pesky people still hanging about who lack the decency to die when I tell them to. Bye!"

The speakers cut out, leaving us alone in the blood-soaked room. I looked up at the door he had suggested; it was doubtlessly a trap. But was he telling the truth? And could I afford to take that chance- or NOT take it- with the others' lives on the line?

* * *

Author's Note: And here's where Jumpchain comes into play! Don't worry, we won't have another chapter like this for a while. If you want to view the documents I used during this chapter (the Resident Evil Jump document and the Body Mod supplement) you can find them on the Jumpchain Google Drive, easily found by searching for "Jumpchain Google Drive" and clicking one of the first few results that pop up. You're specifically looking for the main "/tg/" drive, which is where the bulk of all Jumps are.

You can find Resident Evil under Everyone Else's Jumps - Complete But Need Image Work - N-Z and Body Mod under Quicksilver's Jumps - Body Mod.


	5. Chapter 4: Umbrella Chronicles

**Chapter Four: Umbrella Chronicles**

After the speakers went silent, the room was silent for a few more moments- the only sounds being Wayne's quiet weeping, and the running of the bloodied fountain. O'Connell was the first to speak; "Well, fuck."

"Yeah, that about sums it up," I replied. I took a deep breath, sighing. "Okay, first order of business- we need to make sure this room is clear."

"I don't think there's anything to worry about down here, Nick," Wolf said, "everything's clearly dead."

"No, they're not. Haven't you heard the rumors? Raccoon City was infested with the living dead. Any of these corpses could potentially be one of them." He looked like he was about to argue, so I cut him off; "-and none of that skepticism shit. All bets are off, unless you think one man did all of _this_ ," I gestured to our surroundings. "We just got trapped down in here with this crazy asshole, so we _need_ to be careful. And for the record- and this goes for all of you- you can consider that to be an order. Keep your guard up at all times, and check any bodies you come across. Nudge their legs with your foot, but keep away from their arms and heads. And for God's sake- aim for the heads if you can. They're slow, so try to keep your cool and line up your shots. Firing wildly won't do you any good, and torso shots won't do much, either. Standard zombie rules, basically." I paused for a moment, looking at Wolf. His face was tight. "Any questions?"

Nobody seemed to have anything to add. I wondered briefly if I should start going into the other types of creatures that we might come across, but ultimately decided against it. I figured that a zombie was bound to show up sooner or later, and once it was taken care of I could broach the topic of things like Lickers or Crimson Heads. Going over those things now, when we were already in a shitty situation would probably just demoralize everyone. "Alright. Lets spread out and check the room. Be on the lookout for traps, too, or anything that looks important or suspicious. Jessica, Frank, try to find a clean area for Wayne to sit in while we search this place."

With some trepidation, we got to work. It was grim business; most of the bodies probably _couldn't_ have become zombies, just because of how damaged they were. Even being as careful as I could, it was impossible to walk through the room without stepping in blood or gore. Some of the corpses had been decapitated, though the cuts looked clean enough that I wasn't sure if it had been done by a monster or a person. Wayne was carried over to the staircase by Jessica and Frank, and sat down on the second flight of stairs on the right while they searched the second floor.

Other than the bodies, there wasn't much of interest around the room. There were a few paintings hanging on the walls, but they looked like they were more artistic than anything- there weren't any portraits that could help me put a face to Howard, for example. Rather, they looked morbid and oddly sexual in their subject matter. The one that stood out was of a public hanging where everyone was naked- from the people being hanged, to the executioner, to the crowd. I didn't dwell on the decor for long. There would probably be a puzzle on it later; count the number of dongs to find a key, or something like that.

Fortunately, there weren't any zombies. That didn't make it any better; I was starting to feel queasy just from the sight of all the bodies, let alone the smell. Sara was looking green, too, even from behind her sunglasses. Wolf seemed bothered, but didn't look sick, while O'Connell looked like he was about to lose his lunch. Once we had checked all of the bodies, he ran off to the staircase, joining the others upstairs and away from the worst of the carnage.

Eventually, I moved towards the center of the room. The grayish-white stone of the fountain had been stained almost as badly as the rest of its surroundings, while the bloody water spouting from it was an incredibly macabre sight that left me feeling uneasy. It was surprisingly big, taking up a good amount of space in the center of the room. Eventually, I noticed something- I wasn't sure what it was called, but the pillar in the center of the fountain that held all the tubing and pumps to distribute water throughout it had a relief of a snake-like creature on the back. There was something written on its forehead, but what interested me the most was the two gemstones it had for eyes- one green, and the other blue.

I knew a puzzle when I saw one, and this was definitely a puzzle. Chances are, I'd have to take those gemstones somewhere else, or replace them with something else, or something along those lines. I holstered my pistol and stepped up onto the fountain's rim, being careful not to slip on the stone as I walked into the water.

"What the hell are you doing?" Wolf called out.

"Taking a closer look at this fountain! There's something off about it!" I called back. I waded slowly through the bloody water, and tried to ignore how cold it was. This place probably drew water straight from Lake Michigan; I could only hope that they didn't flush whatever waste they produced here there, too. I took another step forward, only to nearly trip when my foot bumped into something soft. A jolt went up my spine, and as whatever was in the water started to thrash around I carefully stepped backwards and drew my pistol.

"Company!" I called out, as the zombie reared up out of the water. It was a male- wearing a lab coat, like the others- with dark brown hair, and a ragged wound in its neck that might've been a bite. It was waterlogged with puffy, pale looking flesh that made me feel queasy; its eyes were a stark white, although they were barely visible with how low much its eyelids were drooping. It opened its mouth, letting out a low, burbling groan, and water dribbled out of its mouth. I aimed my pistol at its head, taking another step back to be safe- only to reconsider as it slowly trudged forward, holstering my gun and taking out my knife instead. Ammunition was limited, and I wanted to save my bullets for something more dangerous.

Its arms were outstretched as it shambled forwards, but it seemed slow, even for a zombie; it must've been weakened by the water. I stepped around it to its right- its head turning to follow, but too slowly to grab me- and put my other hand on the zombie's shoulder. Its dead flesh squished beneath my hand, and something- I suspected part of the zombie's back had sloughed off- fell into the water with a splash. I gave it a hard push, and it stumbled forward, falling down and colliding head first with the rim of the fountain's basin. The others quickly gathered around the fountain, guns drawn, as I stepped forward with my knife held high.

I brought the knife down on it, skewering it through the brain just as Jessica and Frank rejoined us on the first floor. It twitched and gurgled some more, reaching a hand out towards Sara, who took a step back. Its blood was dark red, nearly black. I pulled the knife half-way out and started to twist it around in the zombie's skull as it squirmed underneath me. Its skull splintered with some effort, and its brains squished wetly under the force of my knife. The zombie shuddered- and then went still.

"That," I began, pulling my knife free, "was a zombie." O'Connell gagged, and ducked behind a pillar- from the sounds that came from behind it, I could tell he had finally lost his lunch. The others didn't look much better. I didn't know what else to say. I felt like I should have been afraid, but I didn't; it was surprising, but nothing more, as if I lacked the capacity for fear. "Be careful," I stressed, looking around to make eye contact with each of them, and stowed my knife back in its sheathe.

I turned back towards the fountain and- more carefully, this time- stepped towards the snake's head- and noted that its eyes were facing forward, and not to the sides like they would if it was really a snake- and ducked to read the writing.

" _The beast of the sea guards the waters with eyes of flame."_

Easy; I had to replace the green and blue gems with red ones. I just had to find them first. I pried the gems out of the snake's sockets. When nothing seemed to happen, I quickly left the cold waters of the fountain for dry land.

"Um, Nick. What did you take?" Sara asked, as I rejoined the group. I held the gemstones up for them to see.

"These Umbrella guys are a fan of kooky puzzles," I explained, "I think this is one of them. Keep an eye out for anything that looks like these, especially if they're red."

"Yeah," Wolf deadpanned.

I shrugged in response, and motioned to the corpse in the fountain. "I was right about him." I placed the gems- which were each about the size of a grape- in my pants pocket.

"Okay, Nick's sudden kleptomania aside," Sara began, "is no one else going to talk about how there was a _fucking zombie_ just now?" Wolf nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I'm, uh, still processing that myself," Frank said. He looked down at it as if expected it to stand up and start shambling around again.

"That is so fucked up," O'Connell said, wiping his mouth as he stepped out from behind the pillar.

I nodded in agreement."It is. This is what happened in Raccoon City, on a smaller scale. The virus that creates these zombies works really fast when directly the infection happens directly."

"Well, it's a good thing you decided to wade through a pool of zombie-water, then," Frank commented.

"It's more serious than that. Remember that water we got sprayed with? If it was contaminated, then we might all be infected." Everyone did a double take, at that. "Whatever it is, it's done a number on Wayne. We need to clean it off and see if we can find something that can counteract it."

"That guy, Howard… he said something about a lab, right?" Sara asked

"On the second floor, first door on the right. Yeah," Frank answered.

I cleared my throat, and everyone turned to look at me. "We need to make a few decisions. The first thing we need to decide is whether or not we should check that 'lab' out. We already fell for one trap, but I don't think we're going to get rescued, either. The second thing we need to think about is who's going to stay here with Wayne. It's too dangerous to take him with us, but it's too dangerous to leave him alone, too," I said, gesturing to the zombie I had killed. I thought about it a moment; who would make the most sense to leave behind? I was afraid Jessica might run off again, so she was out, and O'Connell was looking woozy. Would it be better to leave him behind, with the bodies, or take him with us and have him his aim potentially be thrown off?

"I'll stay here," Wolf offered, "I'll see if I can make this room more defensible."

"Okay. O'Connell, you stay, too." I thought about it for a moment more; if they came across HUNK, I didn't think Wolf had great odds of beating him. He'd basically be alone between Wayne and O'Connell. "Frank, you stay here too. Just in case." He nodded in reply.

As a group, we moved up the stairs. The second floor looked much better than the second floor; there weren't any bodies, for one, though there were a few large bloodstains. There were a few tables and chairs- most of which had been knocked over, or damaged in some way- as well as a few more portraits. Some of the untouched tables had vases or statues on them, and I could tell from the shattered glass and masonry that there had been a few on the tables that had been overturned, as well.

Unfortunately, none of the broken ones seemed to have had ammo, herbs, or grenades in them. I'd take a look at the other ones once we weren't on a time limit, though. I'd knock the portraits off the wall, too, to see if there was anything hidden behind them. If nothing else, the property damage would be a nice additional 'fuck you' to Umbrella, because they looked expensive.

All of the doors were pretty much the same, at first glance. They were all steel, and some of them were painted red or blue. None of them were labeled in any way. The door to the supposed lab was one of the unpainted ones. Once we reached the second floor, we split up; Wolf started gathering furniture, and Frank and O'Connell quickly followed his lead while Jessica, Sara, and I stood in front of the gray door.

I told them my plan, "Jessica, you open the door. I'll wait in front of it to blast anything that's on the other side, then we'll quickly move in." We got in position, and Jessica slowly opened the door. The groans of the living dead didn't spill out to meet us; in fact, there didn't appear to be much of anything on the other side. Instead, there was another hallway; one blue door on the left, one unpainted door at the end of the hallway. I couldn't see any traps, either, but I still carefully scanned my surroundings as I stepped forward, Sara and Jessica right behind me, our guns drawn.

The blue door was locked, leaving only one way to go. We repeated the maneuver with this door, with Jessica opening it, me in front, and Sara to the side.

This time, there was something waiting for us; hovering at about chest height was what looked like a small drone. It was painted black, and a green light shone through a lens on the front of the machine. Two rotating, rapidly spinning blades on either side of the machine held it up, like a helicopter. As soon as the door opened enough to reveal me, the green light started to blink and it emitted a high-pitched klaxon. It was loud enough to be irritating, but it wasn't incapacitating; more like a fire alarm then a weapon. I didn't give it a chance to do anything else; I aimed my handgun at it, and fired a single round at point blank. The bullet tore through the machine, sending it to the floor and silencing it. Jessica quickly slammed the door shut, but nothing happened- I had half expected it to explode, myself. I motioned for the others to stand back, then cautiously opened the door when they were a good distance away. The lights on the drone were off, and it wasn't moving. I nudged it carefully with my foot- making sure to stay away from the blades, just in case- but nothing happened. It was, for lack of a better word, dead.

"What the hell was that?" Jessica asked, cautiously stepping forward.

"Some sort of alarm system, I think. Maybe that 'Mr. Death' left it for us." I nearly said 'HUNK', but caught myself just in time. I wasn't sure yet how to broach the whole, 'I'm actually from another world and have special knowledge thanks to this world being a video game there," topic, but if I even did that at all I'd have to be careful, or else I'd risk looking like I've lost my mind. Everyone else would be stressed enough; they didn't need to deal with a crazy leader on top of that.

"Let's hold up here for a couple of minutes, and see if anything comes to us. You two cover my back, I'll watch the room." When nothing came into the hallway from either side, we opened the door again.

The room on the other side of the door looked like some sort of office space, large and rectangular in shape. The lights were off, but it was possible to see a good couple of feet inside thanks to the light spilling through from the hallway we were in. I could see the silhouettes of office desks with computers- some more cluttered than others- file cabinets, and even a water cooler. It was fairly normal for an office space, as far as hidden underground bases were concerned, but it didn't really scream 'lab' to me. The room was eerily quiet. It didn't look like there were any zombies, but I still felt apprehensive. This whole place felt like a trap, and I got the feeling it wasn't just because we _were_ trapped down here.

Eventually, I decided to take a cautious step forward, to look for a light switch near the door. As soon as I did, one of the computer monitors switched on. The screen was splattered with blood, muffling the blue light of the screen and casting an eerie, pinkish glow around its surroundings. The light was just enough for me to see that there was someone slumped over the desk. Their chair was in the way, but I could just barely see their arm hanging down. Blood was running down it, and there was a pistol clutched tightly in their hand.

' _Fuck that shit,'_ was my first thought. Of all the obvious traps, this was the most obvious. If I went in there, I _knew_ that some sort of monster was going to pop up- probably right on top of me- to try and rip my face off. But this room was our only lead.

I looked over my shoulder, to make sure that Jessica and Sara were looking at me. I motioned for them to come closer, and when they did I whispered to them, "I'm going to check it out. You two cover me. Don't come in or shoot anything unless it looks like I need help."

"Got it. Be careful, Nick," Sara told me. Jessica nodded, and gave me a thumbs up. I took my flashlight out, and used my left arm- which held the flashlight- to steady my right, which held my handgun. They turned their flashlights on as well, and the three beams cut through the darkness that waited for us.

Now that I could see, it was obvious that there were more bodies, even if I hadn't found them all yet. Dried or congealed blood was splattered over the floor and the surroundings, and although it wasn't as heavy as in the foyer the stench of death and blood lingered heavily. As I walked closer, I started to spot them; some were lying on the floor or were sill sitting. A few, it looked like, had even tried to hide under their desks. Despite the large number of bodies, none of them seemed to be zombies.

When I got to the desk with the lit up monitor, I carefully looked the body over. Black male, looked to be about in his late twenties or early thirties. Name tag said "Dr. Ramiro Hall". Cause of death was what looked like a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. No other marks were on his body. I nudged him with my flashlight, just in case, but he didn't react. I carefully leaned down, stowing my flashlight so I could take his pistol. It wouldn't do him any more good, and after a quick check I confirmed that it still had ammo in it; enough for seven shots.

I checked his desk, next. I was pretty sure that there wouldn't be anything of value on his body- and even if there was, I wasn't sure if I wanted to loot him in full view of the others. Aside from the blood splatters, it was relatively free of clutter. There was a potted plant- a cactus, not a herb, unfortunately- a stapler, pens, pencils, other assorted office supplies and a few documents that had been ruined by their owner's blood. The drawers inside of the doctor's desk held much the same- although a small blue notebook caught my attention, due to how out of place it looked.

I flipped the book opened to its first page. The handwriting was clean and neat; professional looking. I could tell straight away that it was a diary, just from the first page was structured. I started to thumb through it to see if there was anything of interest. Each entry took multiple pages, thanks to the book's small size.

 _March 12_ _th_ _, 1997_

 _First day of my new assignment. When they said Umbrella's founder was eccentric, they really meant it. This underground lab is a bit much- I'm surprised they were even able to build most of it- though at least the entrance is less convoluted than the doors at the Racoon lab. I thought the lead scientist was going to blow a gasket when he thought one of the emblems needed to get into the lab was lost. No, here you just need to wait for someone to buzz you in. Keycards, emblems, keys… I wonder how much Umbrella spends on all this security stuff?_

 _Director Byron seems like a respectable guy. He keeps people in line, and he knows his stuff, too; apparently these guys have been working on some sort of organism that can restore motor functions and rejuvenate atrophied nerve tissue. It's an interesting idea, and I can see why the director would be interested in it beyond his normal duties to Umbrella. His assistant gives me the creeps though; he's always skulking around when he's not helping the director out._

 _We're not working with any viruses- at least not directly- so things are a lot more lax around here. So, I'm pretty sure things are going to go much better here than they did back in Raccoon City._

I couldn't help but scoff at that, even as anger began to well inside me. Dr. Ramiro had probably gotten off easier than he had deserved.

 _March 19_ _th_ _, 1997_

 _Testing with the organism… hasn't gone as well as we'd like. Although the rats we've been using as test subjects have regained their ability to move after their spinal columns have been severed, they also exhibit strange, anti-social, and even violent behavior afterwards._

 _In most cases, the rodents will seclude themselves from each other, to the point of refusing to eat even if food is abundant if another rat is already eating. This is highly unusual, as rats are usually social creatures. In some cases, rats will become violent for seemingly no reason- attacking their cage mates with a strange ferocity. When this happens, the implanted organism can usually be seen writhing along their spine underneath their skin as if agitated. The attacking rat usually wins the fight, due to the others preferring to flee rather than fight back; afterwards, the attacking rat will usually begin to cannibalize their kill._

 _There is one exception however; one of the test subjects, an albino, is able to mingle with its peers in a normal fashion. Further study is needed to determine why this is, but the current theory is that the organism, when bonded with the albino, allows the rat to give off some sort of pheromone that makes it seem more trustworthy to the other rats; the mutation being caused by the albino's unique genes._

"That's so messed up…" I muttered. It wasn't even all that useful. They had created some sort of parasite that made the host angry and cannibalistic, but that basically just meant they made a zombie. I quickly flipped through the journal to see if there was anything tucked inside, found nothing, then tucked it in my back pocket.

My investigation of the desk complete, I stowed the man's pistol in my holster and used my flashlight to scan the walls for a light switch, or something that looked like it might control the lights. No dice, though; it made me wonder if the entire facility was being controlled somehow. Between this, the secret entrance in the warehouse, and the computer I had my suspicions. I turned back towards the others, "I think it's safe!" I called out.

A minute later, and the monitor shut off, plunging me into darkness. Sara and Jessica immediately aimed their flashlights where I was, and I had to put my hand up to stop the light from blinding me. A speaker, somewhere, crackled to life.

"Oh, _come on_. 'I think it's safe?' Are you _trying_ to bait me, Mr. Brandt?" It was Byron.

"Let us go!" I shouted. He giggled impishly in response; _this_ guy was supposed to be respectable?

"You're in no position to make demands, Nick," Byron said, his voice taking on a menacing tone as he said my name. "You're a loose end, and we can't have any of those, can we? Please, kindly stay there; I've got something that should help those slackers in there with you wake up." The speakers cut out, leaving us in silence. I stepped towards Sara and Jessica, using their flashlights to guide me so I could keep both hands on my handgun. After crossing about a quarter of the distance between them the room suddenly lit up as all the other monitors turned on, simultaneously, and I heard something whir to life behind me. I spun around quickly; it was another of those drones. I trained my handgun on it, but before I could fire it started to hiss. Red gas started to pour out of its sides, rolling along the ground like fog. I fired, but although my shot had disabled the machine it merely fell down into the fog, which continued to billow out around me- and at an increased rate.

"Nick!" Sara called out. I quickly turned away from the gas, and started towards her and Jessica. It was a bit easier to see where I was going thanks to the monitors, but it was still pretty hard to see. I took a deep breath as the fog rolled over me, marching forward deliberately, yet carefully. Around me- silhouetted in the fog by the light of the computers- the corpses of the scientists who had worked here began to stir, groaning to life. I wasn't sure what effect it would have on a living person, and I didn't want to find out.

A hand wrapped around my right ankle, and I barely looked down at the zombie- a female- before I aimed my handgun and blew her head off. More were closing in around me; some crawled, most shambled. I quickly lined up a headshot on the closest one, then turned around to do the same to one that was in my path. I heard footsteps coming up behind me, and quickly slid over the top of one of the desks just as I felt claws brush against my back.

Unfortunately, it didn't stop the zombie from barreling over the desk like I had- albeit in a clumsier way. It knocked me off my feet, and came down on top of me, long claws scrabbling at my armor and knocking the wind out of my chest. I gasped, coughing as I inhaled the red smoke- only to find that, if not for a strange coppery taste, the gas seemed to be breathable. I quickly tried to shake it off, rolling to the right and then to my left to unbalance it. It clawed at me, and managed to get my arm- sending a jolt of pain through my body as its talons raked just below my left elbow. I managed to shrug it off after that, rolling to the right as it fell off of me. I quickly aimed my pistol- still on the ground- as it looked at me.

This one was different from the others. Another male; the flesh on his face had been peeled away in places, revealing the muscle underneath, and patches of black hair had been ripped away from his scalp with such force that his head was bleeding. His face ran red with blood, although his eyes- which were a stark white- had managed to remain uncovered. His appearance, combined with his speed and claws, told me that he had mutated into a Crimson Head- a stronger, faster zombie, essentially.

Luckily, it still only took one bullet to the head to take him down. A loud groan came from behind- nearly on top of me- and I quickly rolled over to fire my handgun at a zombie that was crawling toward me, only a few feet away. Another one stumbled into view, standing in front of me, and I quickly swept its legs out from under it as a fourth zombie reached me, landing on top of me before I could stop it. I dropped my handgun as it held me down, trying to bite into my neck. It's strength was nearly inhuman, but I was able to grab the zombie by its neck and hold it at bay long enough for me to grab my knife, setting it just in front of the zombie's forehead- and then I let go. The zombie lurched forward- onto my knife- impaling it through the head as soon as I let go. I caught its head as it went limp, throwing it to the side and retrieving my knife and handgun just as the other zombie clambered to its feet. I quickly aimed my handgun at it, killing it with a single shot to the head.

I was breathing heavily now, the copper taste filling my lungs as I briefly looked down at the zombies, and at myself. My clothes had been splashed with their rotten blood, the smell nauseating me as I surveyed my surroundings. Then I made sure I hadn't lost anything; wincing as I checked my belt, the movement making the long scratch on my arm ache.

I was halfway to the hallway, but I was still near the middle of the room. Groaning undead were all around me, and although the fog provided some cover they were seemingly drawn to movement- not to mention noise, which I was making plenty of with my shooting.

"Shit!" I heard Sara say. A gunshot rang out ahead of me, then another. Had the zombies reached Jessica and Sara? Had HUNK taken the opportunity to ambush them? My blood went cold at the thought of that; I had to see what was going on. I retrieved my knife- pulling it free from the zombies skull it had been embedded in- and started to move forward.

The next zombie was a shambler; I ducked out of reach of its arms as it lunged forward, following up with a stab to its throat with my knife. It grabbed me, and we struggled for a bit- it trying to bite me, me trying to avoid being bitten while also trying to do enough damage with my knife to kill it. It half-stumbled, half-pushed me, and I used the movement to spin it around, slamming the zombie down on the desk that had been behind me. I held it down with one hand as it tried to pull me down into biting range, using my other hand to pull my knife out and jab it in the eye. The zombie went limp almost immediately, and I pulled the knife free.

I quickly looked behind my back to see what was going on, and saw that there were at least five zombies coming towards me. I picked one of the computer monitors up, and hurled the bulky machine at the nearest one, knocking it over, and then vaulted over the now clear desk. Another zombie was on the floor in front of me, a woman, but a swift kick to the head was enough to keep her from grabbing me.

Another gunshot came from in front of me. Then two more. I surged forward, tackling a thin male zombie from behind. Quickly grabbing it by the leg of its pants and the collar of its shirt, I lifted the zombie up and quickly dropped it back down onto its neck, snapping it.

I was almost there, but the sounds of gunshots were coming more rapidly now. There were one to three every few seconds now. A zombie grabbed at me from my right side, but a quick hook knocked it off balance long enough for me to put my handgun underneath its chin. Two bullets left, now, not counting the ones in the handgun I had taken off the dead scientist. I took a few seconds to switch out weapons, putting my Samurai Edge back in its holster to take out the scientist's pistol instead. I turned around, briefly, to put five bullets into the heads of the zombies behind me.

I ran forward, not seeing any more zombies in front of me. The light of the hallway was visible to me now, though I could hardly see the silhouettes of Jessica and Sara standing in the doorway. A zombie was moving towards them, but one of them quickly took aim and blew its head off. Then they turned their gun on me, and I threw my hands in the air.

"Wait!" I called out. They lowered their gun a fraction, then took aim to my right, shooting a zombie that was crawling towards them. I breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped forward. The fog, or mist, or whatever it wasn't hadn't quite filled the whole room yet, leaving the coast clear as I stepped out of it and towards the others.

"Nick, what the hell happened?" Sara asked, as I joined them. She looked pointedly at my arm, and I looked down to see that my scratch had, for the most part, stopped bleeding.

"Another drone," I answered. "It released some sort of gas that that woke the zombies up." I showed them both my arm, and Jessica winced in sympathy. "Got scratched by a fast one. Fucker had _claws_. It doesn't hurt, but he could've shredded me if I wasn't careful."

"Damn," Sara said, "we should take care of that soon. Just in case."

"Yeah," I agreed, "just in case. But first, we need to clear this room out." I looked past them, towards the entrance to the foyer at the end of the hallway, "Has anyone come to check to see what the shooting was about?"

"No, not yet," Sara answered.

"I wouldn't be surprised if this place is soundproofed. Well, we'll think about checking on them once these guys are dealt with. You two back up a bit; we'll use the hallway as a chokepoint."

We took the time to reload our weapons- with me swapping out the pistol I had taken from the late Dr. Ramiro with my own- as the mist in the lab started to dissipate. There were only a few zombies left standing- I wasn't sure how many _weren't_ standing- which took me by surprise until I considered how many we had already killed. Not to mention the scientists at the entrance, poor bastards.

We waited until a zombie wandered close to start shooting again, the gunshots drawing a steady stream of ghouls our way. Now that the mist had cleared, it was much easier to kill them. It seemed that without tank controls and camera angles getting in the way, these zombies weren't all that threatening- it helped that it only took one bullet to take them down, too.

In short order, we had cleared the room of any visible zombies. I had the others stay back and keep an eye out while I went through the room, checking the bodies without bullet holes in their heads for signs of activity. Two zombies had wound up pinned to the ground under fallen furniture and I took the time to kill them with my knife. I didn't want to use up any more of my limited ammunition.

When I felt it was safe, I motioned for Sara and Jessica to join me near the front of the room, to the side and away from the worst of the bodies and carnage.

"I thought you were a goner there for a minute, Nick, once that gas poured over you," Sara said. She seemed a bit shook up, which was understandable. I was spooked too, and while I vaguely knew what to expect from this place, the reality was a lot harder to deal with- even if a part of me was better equipped to deal with violence.

"I'm fine. I've just got a scratch, is all. Nothing serious," I tried to assure her.

She shook her head. " _Zombies,_ Nick. You should let me disinfect it, at least."

I held my arm out for her, and she started to dig around on her belt for some basic first aid supplies. She applied a disinfecting spray to my arm, making me wince a bit, then quickly took out a package of medical bandages and started to wrap my arm before I could protest. It stung a bit, but I didn't complain. It helped that she was being as gentle as she could be.

And I didn't mind the contact, to be honest.

"Thanks, Sara."

"Don't mention it." Her hands lingered a few moments longer than I thought was necessary as she checked my bandages, but I didn't say anything. Sara must've saw something in my facial expression, though, because when she looked up at me she scoffed. "I was just making sure your bandages were on tight enough. It's been a while since our last first aid training."

"I know. Thank you." I kept my poker face as best I could, both out of respect for the dead and respect for her. Secretly, I felt relieved by the moment of levity.

"...and by the way- how did you get dry so quick? We're still soaked, but you're dry. Your clothes too, even."

Fuck. She noticed that? I had barely noticed it myself, with all that was going on, but I _had_ been dry when I woke up from my episode. It was 'Evercleansed' at work, I knew, but I couldn't tell them that. "Uh, I don't know. I hadn't noticed until you pointed it out." My mind raced; what should I say?

"Was it the gas, maybe?" Jessica piped up. I started; she had been so quiet, I had nearly forgotten she was there.

"Yeah, probably," I replied, "but enough about that. How are you two holding up?"

Sara hesitated for a moment. "I'm fine," she said eventually, sighing. "I can't quite explain it, but… I don't think shooting them is like how shooting a real person would be like."

"Yeah. A normal person wouldn't be able to shrug off bullets like they would-"

"No, not that," Sara said, "I mean- I don't feel like I've killed someone, you know?"

"Oh! Yeah, I understand. It's hard to think of these things as people."

"Yeah. Yeah," Sara began, "and not just because of what they are now. Those… _fuckers_ … are responsible for this. And Raccoon City. They deserve what they got. And we need to track down that psychopath on the intercoms so he can pay for his crimes, too."

"Don't you think we should focus on getting out of here?" Jessica interrupted.

"Yeah, I do, but- but look at all this," Sara said, motioning to the room, "I couldn't believe it when Nick told me about what his team went through in the Arklay mountains, but it _is_ true! And an entire city was wiped off the map because of these bastards!"

"Jessica is right," I said. They both looked at me, surprised. I continued, "Believe me, no one wants Umbrella to pay for its crimes more than I do. But this situation, is _way_ beyond what we- all of us- are equipped to deal with. We need to get the fuck out of here as soon as possible and have the government deal with this house of horrors."

Sara took a deep breath, and nodded. "Right. Okay."

"Believe me, I know Umbrella's fucked," I said, "it's just a matter of time.. As far as I'm concerned, our only responsibility is surviving through this mess so we can watch it happen. All of us." I looked at Jessica. "Roger, too." She gave a worried smile in reply.

Above us, the speakers crackled to life. I scowled as the annoyingly familiar voice of our captor spoke once more. "That's a nice sentiment, Mr. Brandt," Byron spoke, "but I'm afraid you've already failed at that, as your friend upstairs has already found out."

"Fuck you!" I snarled. Byron chuckled in response, the speakers switching off soon after.

The monitors- all of them in the room, or at least the ones that hadn't been unplugged or smashed- started playing the same video file on their screens.

The video showed us all entering the warehouse, cutting between a few different camera angles to show that it had a good view of all of us, before skipping ahead to the point where the entrance to the lab had opened up and the sprinklers turned on. It showed us all rushing inside- everyone except for Cage, who had been on the other side of the warehouse from the rest of us. The door quickly closed once Sara, Wayne, and I had entered it, leaving Cage stranded behind us.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he swore, as more water started to pour in. He scrambled around for a few moments, trying to open the entrance to the lab. He quickly realized it was impossible, and ran towards the side entrance, which still refused to open. He tried to slam into it and even tried kicking it open, but it didn't budge. He ran back to the front doors, but he hadn't managed to get them alone with help, and it was impossible alone. The video shifted back to a view of the side door, which suddenly opened. Cage immediately broke off into a run towards it, almost slipping on the wet floor, and was only a few feet away from it when the door suddenly slammed shut.

Cage screamed in frustration, which quickly became a hacking, coughing fit. Only a few minutes had passed at this point since he had been cut off from us, and he was already showing severe signs of illness. The video skipped ahead once more, and Cage had hidden himself under one of the shelves, away from the water. His face was contorted in pain, and blood was leaking from the side of his mouth. The video skipped ahead once more. The water was off, but Cage- still under the shelf- was still, unmoving. A shuddering, dry groan rasped from his throat, as he started to stir.

On the screen, Cage stood up, slowly, shuffling off. The shelf he had been laying on was smeared with blood where his head had been. "Thirty minutes," Howard spoke, as the speakers turned back on, "was all it took, from start to finish. You all received lesser doses, but it's only a matter of time, now."

As if on cue, the lights in the room flickered on, the speakers also cutting out at the same time- leaving the three of us in silence. The video continued to play in the background. I blinked a few times as the sudden brightness blinded me, also blinking back the sudden wetness that threatened to cloud my vision. The aftermath of our fight was now fully visible with dozens of dead, decaying bodies and pools of cool, congealing blood surrounding us, but my thoughts were with the person we had left behind. Cage. Was his blood on my hands? I couldn't help but think that it was.


	6. Chapter 5: Degeneration

**Chapter Five: Degeneration**

I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes- gripping the top of the office chair in front of the desk hard enough that I felt the tips of my fingers dig into the plastic covering and into the padding underneath. I felt like breaking something; the emotions I felt bubbling up inside me made me want to scream, to cry out at the injustice Cage had endured. This feeling was new to me; I was pretty mellow before I had come to this world- though perhaps 'neurotic' would've been a better way to describe what I was. It didn't matter what I had become now, be it some amalgamate of two separate lives or something else entirely, there was no mistaking what I felt when I saw that Cage- someone who I was responsible for- had died.

Rage. Pure, homicidal anger. I wanted to tear the people who did this apart. No; I would do that.

" _Fuck!_ " I swore, mashing the power button on the computer. When that didn't seem to do anything I roughly grabbed the monitor, tipping it forward so that I could rip the wires out of the back. The audio cut out as the screen cracked, some safety feature, maybe, but I ripped the wires out anyway.

A hitched sob came from behind me, and I turned around to look at Sara and had a hard expression on her face, inscrutable behind her sunglasses. Jessica wasn't fairing nearly as well. I wasn't surprised; exposed to a deadly virus, partner missing, trapped in an underground labyrinth filled with the undead, and now one of the guys she worked with was dead, too. If that didn't call for some tears, I don't know what would.

"Sara," I said. She turned to look at me; the movement was somewhat jerky, mechanical. I could tell she was frazzled by what she had seen,even without looking her in the eyes.. "Take Jessica and get the others. I'm going to search the room for anything useful and check that everything's clear, and we'll decide where to go from here."

"Right," Sara said, gently grabbing hold of Jessica's shoulders and steering her away. She turned to look at me after a few feet and said softly, "be careful."

"Will do."

With that, they left the room, heading back to the others. I stood there for a few moments, watching to make sure that none of the corpses they passed were really dead. When they were safely in the hallway I turned back to the carnage, and got to work. I was… surprised at how well I was keeping it together. Gore- real gore, not video game or movie shit- used to make me squeamish, but this wasn't fazing me in the slightest. Not to mention the events of today and the past week; I felt like I should have fallen to pieces, but I guess I was made out of sturdier stuff, now. Physically and mentally, at least. Emotionally, I wasn't so sure. In my old life I flip-flopped between being normal to feeling like I was dying inside, and I wasn't sure if some strange god thing uprooting me from my old life and sending me here would help with that or not. Looking at the physical and metaphorical blood on my hands, I couldn't be certain. Not yet, at least. I tried to put that stuff out of mind as I got back to work.

The first order of business- going back to the corpses that didn't have bullet holes in their heads. Sure, they seemed motionless now, but there was still a chance that they'd get up later, and a room full of Crimson Heads could be disastrous. I wasn't sure if it'd keep them down- it had taken a few seconds to kill that first zombie, after all- but I figured it was better than nothing, or risking everyone else coming back to find me stabbing the hell out of some dead guy's head trying to be thorough.

I also took the time to pat down a few of them; anything useful they had wasn't just going to pop out of their bodies, after all. Nobody had anything useful on them- other than a few wallets here and there, maybe, but I wasn't going to take those- though I did spy an interesting looking plant on someone's desk that might've been a herb. I plucked it out of it's pot, and took a quick sniff to see if it had the right scent.

"Check it out guys; Nick found something to smoke."

I turned around to see that Frank and the others had arrived. He was drawing up the front along with Sara; Wolf and Jessica were supporting Wayne, and O'Connell- who looked like he had leveled out a bit- was in the rear.

"No, actually," I began, holding the herb up for them to see, "I found something that might be useful. This plant is native to the Arklay mountains. I don't remember what it's called, exactly- but if you grind it up and apply it to an injury, it basically kicks your body's healing into overdrive. It's what first aid sprays are made out of."

I looked at Wayne; he was deathly pale, now. Everyone else seemed fine, but then I remembered a certain drawback to me being here- namely, that everyone would look fine right up until they died or turned. If Wayne looked that bad already, then…

"A slower acting, but no less effective treatment- one that also boosts the immune system- can be done if the herb is taken orally. Wolf, Jessica- set Wayne down somewhere clean. I'm going to grind this stuff up for a bit; since Wayne doesn't really have any 'wounds' to speak of we'll just have to give it to him this way and hope for the best. Everyone else- start dragging bodies over there," I pointed to the right wall of the room; the walls were bare, save for some whiteboards filled with formulas.

Everyone got to work after that; after setting Wayne down next to the door on the left side of the room, Wolf and Jessica began to move bodies as well. I found a loose, clean sheet of paper- and in the absence of something better to use, took out my knife- and began to grind the herb into a fine powder. The plant was leafy, but crumbled easily under force; they could even be ground by hand- though doing so would be sloppy.

Eventually, I was left with a bright green powder. Gingerly, I folded the paper's edges to help prevent any from spilling and brought it over to Wayne. His head turned to follow me, but his eyes were glazed over and unfocused. His cheeks were wet where tears had streaked down his face. It was hard to look at, because I could tell that he knew he was dying.

"Hey, Wayne. Buddy. I've- I've got some medicine here. I'm hoping it'll help, so try not to spit it out, or anything."

He opened his mouth a fraction, but no words came out. I took that to mean he was ready for the herb, and I unfolded the paper partially to help pour it into his mouth. He didn't seem to show any reaction to the taste, but closed his mouth when I was done. I wasn't sure if it would help at all, but doing something to help him made me feel a bit better.

"Just… hang in there, man. There's a cure somewhere in here, we just need to find it first," I told him, trying to sound confidant.

"It itches…" he whispered, his voice so low that I barely heard it. My heart plummeted at the words.

"Don't scratch, okay? I know you're not feeling well but just… don't. Okay?" He didn't respond, except for a slight tilt of his head; it looked like he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

"How's he holding up?" Wolf asked, stepping towards me. I looked over to see that the others were dragging the last of the bodies over to the far wall.

I stepped off to the side, motioning for him to follow. He did, and once we were far enough away that Wayne couldn't hear I told him in a whisper, "He's not going to make it. Unless we find a cure right now, he's as good as gone."

"Damn it!" Wolf swore, a bit louder than I was. "What a shit-show. First Cage and now Wayne? Un- _fucking_ -believable."

"Keep your voice down," I scolded him, "all we can do for him right now is make sure he's comfortable."

Wolf took a deep breath, looking down at the ground for a moment in thought.. "You're right. What's our next move going to be?"

"I've already searched most of the room, but there's a chance there's still something we might be able to use in here. We also need to check out those two doors-" I pointed to the door near Wayne, and the door opposite the one we entered this room from, "-and see what's going on with them."

"I think they're both unlocked, if I've figured their door system out already."

I paused. "What?"

"If the door is colored- red, blue, yellow- it's locked. Grey doors like those are unlocked."

"Did you go into any of the other rooms?"

"I checked the other doors to see if they were locked or not," he explained, "and barricaded the doors that weren't. That way, if someone- or something- on the other side wants to get through, they either have to go through the barricade or unlock the door. Either one should give us time to react."

His logic was sound, but I was a bit surprised at how reckless he was being. If a Hunter- or HUNK- had been waiting for him, he'd be dead. "What would you have done if a zombie or some other monster was waiting for you on the other side?"

"Shot it, obviously," he replied instantly.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, thanks for the information."

He didn't respond, save for a small shrug of his shoulders. Soon, the others gathered around us, and we stepped away from each other to make a circle with the others.

"Alright, the good deed is done," Frank spoke up, wiping his hands off on his pants, "what now?"

"We'll take a quick peek at what's on the other side of the doors," I said, pointing out the doors that we had yet to go through yet. I was piecing together a mental map of this place; it already seemed labyrinthine. "The side door first." A side-room was more likely to result in a dead end, which meant that it'd be easier to explore, loot, and make safe.

Once again, we got into position. The door was opened; nothing popped out to attack us immediately. I went in first.

It was a bathroom; one that had showers in it, for some reason, as well as lockers. Why they were there, I couldn't tell; I hadn't seen any chemicals laying around in the previous room, so they weren't there for safety purposes. I wouldn't be surprised if some of their employees lived on site, but that just made me wonder why they wouldn't put the showers closer to the living quarters, wherever those were.

…I had better things to worry about than whatever madness possessed the designer of this facility to structure it like this. A quick scan of the stalls showed that there wasn't anything else in the room with us, so I holstered my pistol for a moment and took stock of our surroundings. The lockers were all shut- save one, which was stacked full of towels. There was a green first aid box on the wall near the door. Other than that, it was pretty much what I'd expect from a bathroom; tile floor, metallic gray stalls, a row of porcelain sinks and fluorescent lighting like in the rest of the facility.

I went over to the sinks, first. The water looked normal for about a second, but I heard a bubbling in the pipes and sure enough, it turned a sickly green color.

"Don't drink the water. Don't touch the water. It's bad," I announced, shutting the water off. The others vocalized their acknowledgement in varying degrees of enthusiasm. "Everyone grab a towel and a stall and dry off as best you can; I'm going to grab Wayne."

I didn't think he'd be able to clean himself off, and I didn't want to let him stew in his filthy clothes, either. I picked him up, carefully, slinging his shoulder over my back and supporting him as we walked into the bathroom together. He could only stay standing with my help, I could tell, and I quickly sat him down on a toilet in one of the stalls, grabbing a white towel from the locker afterwards. Briefly, the thought of how awkward this might be passed through my mind- but it passed all the same. There was no time to be concerned about petty shit like that.

"Hey, um, I'm going to try and clean you off now, if that's alright with you?" He turned his head slightly, again; I could tell his breathing was shallower than it had been before.

"It itches…"

"I know man, I'll be careful," I said, pressing the towel carefully against his face to pat it dry. Wayne grimaced when I was done, and raised a hand up to his face. I grabbed his wrist and shook my head, and he let his hand drop back to his side.

"...it itches worse now. And I feel so… empty."

"Alright," I said, setting the towel to the side for a moment, "I'm going to get that armor off of you so there's not as much weighing you down. Then we'll keep going."

I didn't wait for an answer; instead I started to fiddle with the straps and clasps that kept our armored vests on. It was a bit cumbersome; there were four of them and two of them were behind Wayne's back. I stepped around to undo them when he brought his hand up again. "Just… going to rub my face a bit."

I pulled the vest off, letting it fall to the ground, then stepped back around. Wayne was slowly rubbing the side of his head with one hand. He sighed, and I watched as his pace increased slightly. I moved to stop him, but he spoke up before I could grab him again. "It feels better, just let me keep rubbing for a bit."

Fuck. Should I let him? Would it even make a difference at this point? I opened my mouth to tell him to stop-

A wet squish, like stepping into mud with boots, came from right in front of me. Wayne heard the noise too and froze for a moment. We looked at each other, as if to confirm what both of us had heard. Wayne brought his hand back slowly. Blood dripped from his fingertips, so dark it was nearly black. The area where he was touching his face had been deformed, almost like molded clay, and in a few spots where his fingers had made deeper impressions blood was beginning to spill, running slowly down the side of his face.

"Oh…" he said. The movement of Wayne's mouth made another sloshing, wet sound, and more blood started to ooze out of the side of his mouth as he looked at me. I took a step back, unconsciously, staring at him in silent horror."I was f-feeling better, too…" The eye on the right side of his face was bloodshot, but rapidly grew even darker as blood began to pool in it. A red drop of blood leaked out of his eye, trailing down his face like a tear.

"Don't move," I told him, "t-there's a first aid box that might-"

Wayne's head slumped downward for a moment, and that movement was enough. A chunk of flesh sloughed off of the side of his face, bouncing off his thigh to land on the floor with a splat. He looked up and I could see his teeth and part of his jaw bone through the ragged hole in the side of his face. I felt bile rise in my throat, and I fumbled with the stall door's lock, still looking down at Wayne.

Wayne mumbled something that I couldn't quite make out, then broke into a series of coughs- each one bringing up more blood and chunks of flesh, littering the bathroom floor- before he finally slumped forward, arms dangling at his sides.

The lock finally opened, and I slammed the door open hard enough that it produced a thunderous crash when it rebounded off of the door of the neighboring stall. I darted towards a sink, making it just in time for what little contents my stomach had to violently erupt from my throat. The confused voices of the others in the room, save Wayne, started up almost immediately, but the words were nearly indecipherable as I continued to dry heave.

"-Nick, what's-"

"-are you doing-"

"-oh-"

"-Jesus, Wayne-"

"-my God-"

The others had stepped out of their stalls, after making themselves relatively decent, and had come to check what was going on. I think it was O'Connell who first saw Wayne, because he quickly joined me at another of the sinks. Wolf and Sara both let out a colorful stream of curses, and I heard Jessica break down in tears once again. Frank was the only one who was silent. I spat into the sink and stood up straighter, now that was my stomach was empty, and turned around.

Wayne was still; if he wasn't dead, he was maybe a minute away from death. There was no possibility of him surviving; even if we had a cure, his flesh was clearly starting to become necrotic. We were underground, and the only people who knew where we were or might've had the technology to save him wanted us dead.

I stepped back towards Wayne, and checked his pulse. Nothing. I put my hand in front of his mouth- and then in front of the hole in the side of his face, just in case- to see if I could feel him breathing instead. Nothing. I cleared my throat, and turned back around to look at the others. "We need to figure out what we're going to do with him. We can't just leave him or else…" I gesture towards Wayne's body.

"He'll come back as a zombie," Sara finished, solemnly. I nodded my head.

"Shit," Frank said, rubbing the back of his head.

Given their emotional states, O'Connell and Jessica were right out. Frank seemed to be doing well; shooting someone had a good chance of changing that. I was morbidly curious if Sara was capable of mercy killing someone she knew. She had a good head on her shoulders, I knew, but could she do something like that? I wasn't sure if I wanted to find out.

I didn't _want_ to shoot Wayne, but I felt like I could if it came down to it. It would be different from shooting the zombies- I hadn't spoken to any of those ghouls, or given them pointers during training, or… fuck.

Wolf…

Wolf drew his gun, and stepped towards the stall that Wayne was sitting in. I almost felt like I should stop him, but found that I couldn't bring myself to speak up. "If anyone has anything to say, you should do it now. If you don't want to be here, leave now," he said, looking back briefly.

Apparently, he was going to take the initiative. His words seemed to surprise Jessica and O'Connell, but neither of them moved to leave, instead standing off to the side so they wouldn't have to look. Frank looked like he was on edge; Sara was frowning. The three of us watched as Wolf put the barrel of his pistol against Wayne's forehead. None of us said anything. I heard Wolf take a breath.

The gunshot rang out, and a spray of blood splattered against the wall, painting it red, and Wayne's head jerked backwards. I flinched, in spite of myself.

Wolf sighed, putting his pistol back in his holster and folding his arms. "Fuck me. Did anyone get any last requests from him?" He looked at me.

"No," I answered with a shake of my head, "he just- he just said he felt like he was getting better."

"Jesus Christ," Frank said, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh my God! We're fucking screwed!" O'Connell suddenly shouted. He slammed his fist into one of the sink's mirrors, sending cracks like a spider's web along its surface. His hand was shaking when he pulled it away. Wolf began to pace, and Jessica had a withdrawn, glazed look in her eyes. Sara was looking down at the floor, her arms crossed.

God, this was all happening so fast. There was barely any time for me to think before something else blindsided me. Two of us were already dead, and we'd barely started our exploration of the lab. And I had no idea what to do other than hope we could find a way out- if that was even possible- while fighting whatever ugly creatures showed up in the meantime. If I had just been thrown into this situation without any of the perks that 'Jumpchan' gave me, I'm certain the old me would've just laid down to die at this point. A part of me wanted to lie down, still.

But I knew that wasn't an option.

Even though it came with a fresh lineup of issues, my will was tougher, now, and I could share that toughness with the others. So long as we were alive, I'd keep going, too. With that in mind, I stepped back into the stall with Wayne. I didn't linger on his appearance, or the fresh bullet hole in his head- rather, I carefully lifted him up, over my shoulder, grabbing his arm to complete the fireman's carry. His skin felt waxy; I could scarcely believe that the t-Virus worked so quickly. When I turned around, I saw that the others were staring at me in confusion.

"What are you doing?" Wolf asked.

"Yeah… no offense Nick, but I don't think we can afford to cart around a bunch of dead weight," Frank said.

"I'm taking Wayne into the other room," I told them, stepping past them; Sara quickly walked ahead of me, opening the door to the office room. "Thanks, Sara. I know we can't bring him with us while we're trying to escape, but it doesn't feel right to just leave him in a bathroom stall like that." I sat him down on an office chair, and returned to the bathroom. I nodded to Sara, and she nodded back, closing the door behind me.

"Things are looking pretty bleak," I began, "but there's still a glimmer of hope. I don't know what Umbrella's motive is for dragging us all here. I don't think my… gaffe would've given them enough reason for something as elaborate as that." That was a white lie; the virus I had been injected with so long ago was more than enough reason for them to come after me. But they didn't need to know that right now.

"I can't sugar coat this- if they wanted us all dead, we would be. The fact that we aren't- that the director is playing this sick game with us instead- is good and bad. Bad, because we're still stuck down here. But we're still alive, and that means we can get out of here. Cage, Wayne- we need to keep going for their sake, too, so that their loved ones know what happened. We'll get evidence, get out of here, expose what happened- bring these bastards to justice."

I took a breath. "You guys still need to get that shit off your skin. I'm going to take a look in the other room, see if I can find something useful, then come right back. We'll go from there. Sara, when you're done drying off try and crack those other lockers open with your lockpick." I paused; "I'm sure you, a master of unlocking, will make quick work of them."

I kept the humor off of my face as I said it, but I felt just a little bit better. It was horribly cheesy, but I needed a bit of cheese right now. "Weird way of phrasing that, but okay," Sara replied. I shrugged, and turned to walk out the door.

"I'm going to come with you," Frank said. I turned, getting ready to tell him that wasn't necessary, when he cut me off. "This isn't Scooby-Doo, man; we can't split up like this and have people running off on their own. I'll dry off once we get back."

"Alright, fair enough," I told him, "it's your decision."

We left the bathroom, walking the distance to the door that led to the unexplored room in silence. A careful check revealed nothing waiting for us on the other side- it was just a corridor, with an elevator at the end.

"Well, shit," I sighed, "this place just keeps on going, huh?"

"Yeah. This place is a maze."

"I'm going to take a closer look at the elevator, maybe see if the buttons are labeled. You can go back to the others now."

"Er- one thing before I go." I turned to look at him, and Frank continued, "Well… remember earlier today when I said that Wolf was mad at you? I think you should keep an eye on him; he's been acting strange when you're not around. Twitchy. And- I don't want to point fingers or anything- but I think I saw some papers with the Umbrella logo on them on his desk. I'm not sure what that's about, but thought you might be interested in hearing that."

Damn right I was. At this point, I figured that someone at the station had to be dirty- if not the chief himself, then someone who could blackmail and intimidate him. If Umbrella was out for my blood- literally- then a mole made perfect sense. Still, I was a bit peeved that he was deciding to share this now. "That might've been good to hear when we were in the car, Frank, and not in these catacombs."

"Shit, man, I'm sorry," Frank said, holding his hands up, "but if he is a spy or a secret agent or whatever, spilling the beans in his car might not have been the best idea, you know?"

"...fair point. Keep an eye on him and tell me if he does anything else that's suspicious. And on second thought, stick around for a bit to watch my back. I don't want to set him off by sending you back early."

"Got it, Nick."

I nodded, and continued down the hallway. It was completely clear- no blood, no guts, nothing out of place. The elevator, interestingly enough, had an up button- marked 'surface access'. I pressed it immediately, and waited. No dice. Well, it was never going to be that easy. The down arrow was labeled 'water station, hydroponics, and lab', which was more in line with what I had come to expect. I returned to Frank.

"Well, it looks like the only way forward is down. There's an option to go up, but-"

"It doesn't work?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I guess there's nothing else to do here then. Lead the way."

I nodded, and we made the short trip back to the bathroom. "Coming in!" I called out, announcing our presence. I didn't want anyone sticking a gun in our faces. It looked like everyone was done drying off; the lockers were all opened, save one, which Sara was standing next to.

"Anything good?" I asked.

"Clothes, mostly. Nothing too interesting; not even anything in the pockets," she answered, "until I looked inside this one." She swung the locker door open, revealing an absolutely beautiful looking shotgun and a box of ammo. "Thirty shells in total. I found a packet of herbs in the first aid box, too," she said, pulling a white and green baggie out of her pocket.

"Nice. I think you should keep a hold of those. Frank and I have found a way forward. I want everyone else to go back to the foyer while Sara and I check it out."

"What happened to not splitting up?" Wolf asked. He was glaring again.

"Frank's right in that we shouldn't run off on our own," I admitted, "but getting cramped together isn't any good either. If we run into a whole horde, we don't want to be tripping over each other trying to escape. It also gives us a place to retreat to and regroup if shit hits the fan."

"Alright, fine. I don't get why it's always you running off to do things, but okay."

"I've got a hunch that it has something to do with me being his partner," Sara spoke up. Wolf whipped around to look at her.

"Yeah, pretty much," I said, "and to be honest, I'm probably the most well trained person here."

Wolf scoffed. "That's debatable."

"One of those zombies out there died of a broken neck-"

"I could do that too."

"-I broke its neck by picking it up and slamming it head first into the ground. I killed a couple more with perfect headshots. I killed the first zombie we found by stabbing it in the brain. You might have military training, but my S.T.A.R.S. training trumps that. We're world renowned for a reason."

I looked around at the others. "Does anyone else have any objections?" No one did, to Wolf's apparent shock, as he looked between me, Sara, and Frank. "I think we're done here. Watch each other's backs; we'll be back soon." I couldn't be sure if Wolf was working for Umbrella or not, but if he was I figured it was better to leave him with Frank. He'd be watched that way, and I could focus on what lied ahead.

Sara grabbed the shotgun, quickly grabbed the ammo, then joined me as we headed out the door- leaving the others to pack up and move out.


	7. Chapter 6: The Fourth Survivor

**Chapter Six: The Fourth Survivor**

"That went well," Sara said, dryly, without a hint of humor in her voice at all.

"I know what you're thinking. But I have a good reason for being a dick to Wolf this time."

"Oh?"

"Frank said that he's been acting suspiciously the past few days. He said that there was some evidence that he had been working with Umbrella; some papers on his desk with their logo on them."

Sara paused in thought. "Why didn't you say something about it back there? For all we know they were from a hospital visit."

"I didn't know how he'd react if Frank was right. Or wrong for that matter; I really think he wants to knock my teeth in this time." We entered the hallway where with the elevator.

"Heh. What else is new? Good call, I guess; if he doesn't stab us on the back later you really ought to try and patch things up with him. I don't… think he's a bad person. He doesn't like you because of your 'gaffe', as you called it, but he's a good cop."

I sighed; "We really don't mesh well together. I think both of us want to be the top dog around, and neither of us can stand it being the other one."

"Sounds about right."

We reached the elevator, and I pressed the button to take it down.

"Hey, Nick."

"Hmm?"

"Can I talk to you about something serious for a minute?"

"Of course."

She took a deep breath, and took off her sunglasses to look up at me. It caught me off guard; she liked to wear those things everywhere. I had nearly forgotten that her eyes were blue. "I- I want you to promise me that if I start to get as bad as Wayne did, that you'll- you-" Tears were starting to leak out of the corners of her eyes, and I took a step towards her. She brushed them away, looking back at up me. "I want you to kill me before I become one of those things. A-and, I want you to tell my parents and brother that I love them. God knows I should do it more, but-" She was tearing up again.

I wrapped my arms around her in a hug. "You're not going to die. I promise."

"But-"

"I promise. I'm going to do the best I can to make sure everyone goes home today."

"...Okay. I believe you." She pulled away from me. "But still- if it does happen-"

"Yes. I will."

"Good. Thank you," she said, replacing her sunglasses after wiping away her tears.

I thought for a moment. The elevator arrived- empty, thankfully- as I thought carefully about what I was about to ask. "Can you do me a favor as well?"

"Hmm?"

"If I get injured, and it doesn't look like I'm going to make it- I want you to let me die. And I want you to give me ten minutes like that before you make sure I stay dead."

"...what the hell?" I'd expected that.

"I'll explain the why later, when I'm sure we're not being listened in on. Just- just trust me on this, okay?"

"...Alright. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but I'll do it."

I let out a sigh. "Thanks, Sara. Ladies first?"

She scoffed, and entered the elevator- me right behind her. The doors closed automatically, and I pressed the button to go down to the next level. Sara pointed her shotgun at the elevator door, and I drew my Samurai Edge. "It's the least I could do."

"I appreciate it. It's important to me, but I'll explain what's going on sooner rather than later. Just- not here."

She nodded. The elevator doors stopped, and after a few tense seconds the doors opened to reveal another hallway. I stepped forward cautiously, Sara backing me up. There weren't any doors; the end of the hallway opened up directly into a large room, where several tables and countertops were stacked with various beakers, computers, microscopes, and other scientific instruments that I couldn't even begin to name. Everything was white or black, giving the room a sterile and clean appearance. There weren't any bodies that I could see, and there were two doors to the left and right.

At the end of the room was a double staircase which led up to a balcony. There was a set of door at the end of it, red in appearance. Above that-

"Holy shit," Sara whispered, "is this place underwater?"

Eerie blue light streamed in from the window, casting a blue tinge on everything beneath it. I shook my head in disbelief. "No. There's got to be another explanation. I refuse to believe that Umbrella built an aquatic lab under Lake Michigan."

Something knocked over a glass beaker on our right, making it break, and I turned to look at what it was. A blue cylinder had landed on one of the counters. I barely had time to push Sara into cover when a blinding flash sent me reeling.

"Shit!" Sara yelped. I echoed her a moment later when the stinging pain in my eyes started.

Unlike an ordinary flashbang, there was no deafening noise- the sound the grenade made as it exploded was about what you'd expect from a gunshot, or even lower in volume. The 'flash' part was still a problem, though, and even without totally deafening me and sending me off balance it gave enough of a distraction for someone to run up behind me and send me to the ground with a roundhouse kick to the back, knocking me to the ground.

I flipped onto my back immediately, firing a round directly behind where I was. I missed; whoever had attacked me was already moving, their footsteps coming to my right. I moved my gun to follow them, firing another shot- missing again, only for my handgun to be ripped from my hand. A swift kick to my head sent it bouncing off the floor, and a wave of throbbing pain spread out through my head from the points of impact. I heard Sara let out a groan to my left.

I threw my arms out, hoping to trip the person up, connecting with what felt like their left leg. Their right leg struck out immediately, stomping down on my ribs. It hurt like hell, but I kept up the attack, grabbing a hold of the person's pant leg so I could start to hoist myself up. My vision was starting to return now, slowly, and I squinted up at my attacker- though I already had a pretty good idea of who it was.

The red lenses of HUNK's gasmask stared down at me. A moment later, and my own pistol was lashed across my face as he pistol whipped me. He spun the gun around in a smooth movement, taking aim at Sara- who was just starting to recover- having dropped her shotgun in the confusion.

"No!" I yelled, rolling to get between her and HUNK's line of fire. He shifted his gun to aim at my chest instead as I stood up.

"Stand down. I'm not supposed to kill you yet," he spoke, and a chill went up my spine. His voice was just as cold and unforgiving as his nickname suggested. He was wearing a gray uniform, a black bulletproof vest with matching gloves and combat boots- as well as his combination gasmask and helmet. He had a pistol on his hip, and a submachine gun on his back, as well as assortment of grenades on a bandolier.

I drew my knife instead. "Like hell I will."

He hesitated, and I took my shot- lunging forward with my knife, aiming for his side. He spun my pistol around again and reached behind his back to pull out his own knife with his other hand, bringing it up just in time to deflect my knife strike.

"Hmm. Not too shabby," HUNK said, flipping the Samurai Edge back around, this time aiming at my head. "Throw your weapons down, girl. Before this gets ugly."

I looked over my shoulder briefly to see that Sara was aiming her shotgun in our direction. Reluctantly, she threw the shotgun off to the side. Her pistol and knife jointed it, a few seconds after.

HUNK nodded. "Good. Not smart, but good." He adjusted his aim towards her instead, and I hit his arm to try and throw his aim off. HUNK's shot missed, and Sara ran back towards her weapons as I kept up the attack, trying to wrestle my gun out of his hands.

"Everyone, STOP!"

Howard's voice rang out, and HUNK and I momentarily paused. Sara kept going though, sliding towards her shotgun and quickly standing up again after picking it up.

"Mr. Death. How are we supposed to collect the data we need if our subject is dead? Please; now that most of his friends are gone we can give him our pitch in… relative peace."

HUNK grabbed my arm, wrenching me to the side so that I was between him and Sara again. I managed to wrench my gun out of his hands, and dropped my knife so I could get a hold of it. HUNK pushed me back, drawing his own pistol and getting a bead on me before I could fire. We were in the middle of a Mexican stand off, now, as Sara and I aimed our weapons at him and HUNK aimed at me. I couldn't aim fast enough to hit HUNK's head without being shot myself, but he couldn't kill me without getting blasted away by Sara, or vice versa.

"That's easier said then done," HUNK said, "you'd better speak quickly."

"Pfft, fine," Howard said, sighing. "Sorry about him. He's got no sense of humor. Anyways- let's just cut to the chase. You've got something of interest to us inside you, and I want to get my hands on it. I'd also like to study you while you still live, since actually killing you is optional for it's extraction. If you surrender now, so I could do that, I might be willing to let your friends go. What do you say?"

"I say that you're lying through your teeth!" I answered him.

"Well, yeah," Howard quickly shot back, "I figured it was worth a try, though! Back to plan A then, Grim Reaper! Try to take him alive if you can!"

HUNK dove off to the side, narrowly evading a blast of Sara's buckshot. I moved to follow him, only to dive behind cover myself as HUNK opened fire with his pistol. Sara got to cover a little too late, and I heard her let out a cry of pain as a bullet tore through her leg.

"Motherfucker! You're going to pay for that!" I shouted. I crept around the counter top that was giving me cover as Sara pulled my injured leg behind hers.

HUNK broke away from his cover, sprinting past a table and making for the staircase. I quickly fired a shot, and managed to catch him in his chest. His vest stopped the bullet, but he let out a grunt in spite of that, diving behind another countertop. I got up to run after him, only to slide behind cover as he popped up to take shots at me. It was his turn to land a shot on my armor, which deflected the bullet easily enough- though it didn't exactly tickle as the impact transferred through it, giving me a small sting. I vaulted over the counter that HUNK had used for cover, knocking over some empty beakers and a microscope.

I took a breath to center myself, then stuck my head out to see what was going on- going back into cover as a bullet narrowly missed my head. HUNK had to be running low on ammo, which meant that he was either going to start using his machine gun, or he was going to start throwing grenades. He was also going for the staircase, where he could use the railing- which was solid, rather than barred- as cover.

"Sara! Are you alright?" I called out.

"I'm working on it!" she yelled back. Hopefully, that meant she was trying to use the package of herbs she had found.

"Good! He's going for the staircase, so watch out!"

"Got it!"

I stood up, aiming where HUNK had been. He had holstered his pistol, in favor of his machine gun like I had predicted, and was running for the staircase on the right side of the room. I fired my pistol, catching him in the back- on the vest again- and he stumbled, catching himself quickly to start up the staircase. I immediately sprinted out of cover, going for the left staircase. I couldn't let him get a bird's eye view of the room while Sara and I were still on the ground. We didn't have the cover for that.

He reached the top of the balcony a few seconds before I did, immediately aiming his gun at my chest. I fired one round, hitting his left shoulder, and his aim went wide. I ran forward before he could correct his aim, and tackled him into the banister. His machine gun fell over the side of the railing, clattering to the ground below us.

Despite hitting his shoulder, HUNK managed to punch me in the right ear hard enough that I felt dizzy after the strike. He drew his knife once more, and a hidden blade sprung forward from the glove on his left hand. I aimed a shot at his head, but he brought his knife up so that it grazed the top of his helmet instead. He brought his hidden blade up to swipe at me, and grazed my stomach as I stepped backwards to avoid the blow.

Sara fired her shotgun, and HUNK's left arm jerked as a few pellets buried themselves in his arm, grunting in pain. That didn't seem to slow him down, as he pressed his attack on me with his knife- forcing me to dodge his blows as he aimed for my sides, stomach, and throat, preventing Sara from firing at the same time for fear of hitting me. His pain tolerance must've been nearly inhuman, as after a few missed strikes he tried to catch me off guard with a swipe from his hidden blade.

That distracted me enough that his next knife strike was able to hit my arm, and made me drop my Samurai Edge. Before he could press his advantage, I brought my head back and headbutted him. It probably hurt me more than it hurt him, but it gave me enough time to draw my knife and to kick my gun down the stairs before he could grab it for himself.

I held my knife up defensively in my left hand, drawing the pistol I had found on the scientist in my right. Below us, Sara was starting to move again, making her way towards the staircase at a hobble. "I'd surrender, if I was you," I told him, "it'd save us both a bullet."

HUNK scoffed. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to my masters. My mission is all that matters; I won't let anything stand in the way of that. Even my own death."

"Admirable. Edgy, but admirable," I told him. "So, is that just something you're just saying to be cool, or does Umbrella have a vat of Mr. Death clones somewhere?"

Maybe I had struck a nerve, or maybe he had just decided now was the time to act- either way, he lunged towards me. Sara was halfway up the staircase now, but we'd finish the fight before she could intervene. I fired a round, striking HUNK in the unarmored section of his torso. I pulled the trigger again, but found that I was out of bullets. I cursed, bringing my knife up too late as HUNK buried his own knife in my shoulder, where the zombie had scratched me earlier.

I barely felt the pain as I kicked HUNK back, tossing my knife into my other hand with the uninjured arm, and stalked towards him. He raised his hidden blade, but I batted it aside, stepping on his foot so he couldn't escape. I drove my knife into his gut, and I heard him let out a gasp as it sank in. I let him push me away as he stumbled backwards towards the red doors, looking down at the knife sticking out of his torso, only to double back and hit him with a haymaker, sending him reeling. My knuckles were bleeding from the force of my blow, but he had it worse.

"Ergh… ah, fuck," HUNK gasped, pulling a grenade off of his bandolier; a purple one. "Damn it. He'll get the virus off what's left of you." I nearly leapt over the side of the balcony when the red doors opened, revealing a small group of zombies. HUNK pulled the pin, and a deep purple smoke began to billow out of it, masking his appearance. "If we meet again, you won't be so lucky," HUNK said, as he stepped backwards into the horde. They seemed to ignore him as they shambled forward towards us, the doors closing shut once five of them had entered the room.

"Son of a bitch!" I shouted, as three of them started towards me; I had nothing to defend myself with now, save for the knife in my arm that was keeping my blood in at the moment. I was starting to feel the ache of the wound now, as blood poured down my arm; I probably smelled pretty good to them now. Sara's shotgun mulched the heads of the two zombies going after her easily enough, and a third shot from her took out the closest zombie to me, but that still left two more, and her shotgun was out of ammo now.

"NICK! CATCH!"

I looked over just in time to see Sara throw her pistol at me, catching it one handed just as the first zombie grabbed me. Before it could sink its teeth into my shoulder I twisted Sara's gun to the side, getting it at just the right angle so that I could blow its brains out. I shoved it off of me, killing the other one afterwards.

"Oh, my fucking God," I breathed, leaning over to put my hands on my knees. The movement sent a jolt of pain through my arm, but now that my adrenaline was wearing off all the damage I had taken was starting to catch up with me. I felt light headed- from blood loss? From a concussion? From stress? All three?

Sara walked towards me, a little faster than she had been earlier. Her pant leg was stained red, but it looked like she was mostly healed up, now. That was good.

Sara wrapped an arm around my side, helping me stand up. "We've got to find something in here to patch you up with," she muttered.

I nodded, wincing as another jolt of pain came from my arm. We walked down the steps slowly. "There's got to be something in here we can use. This is a lab; if there was first aid box in the bathroom, there's got to be something in here that'll work."

"I'll look for it, you-"

"No, I won't bleed out fast enough for it to make a difference. I'll help; just set me off down here." Sara let me go as we reached the bottom of the staircase, and I nodded in thanks.

We turned the lab upside down, digging through random drawers and examining the tops of the tables and countertops for anything that might be of use. Eventually, Sara found something- a carrying case for first aid sprays, with three of them still inside. I sat down on a stool as she pulled the knife out, quickly spraying into my wound to close it up; flesh regenerating and knitting itself back together rapidly as the concentrated herbal medicine got to work. We used the rest of the bottle to finish patching me up, with Sara using the last bit of it to finish healing her bullet wound- we were, more or less, in perfect health- if not rattled and fatigued from the fight.

We gathered up our weapons, and took the time to reload. I claimed HUNK's machine gun for myself, while Sara kept the remaining first aid sprays. There was nothing else of note in the room- or at least nothing that we could use.

"This place is cleared out," I said, "think we should go get the others, or should we check out the side rooms first?"

"We should definitely go back and get the others first," she answered, "if he comes back I want more than us two to fight him. No offence."

"None taken. Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

The return to the foyer was uneventful, though what waited for us when we got there wasn't. The barricades on one of the uncolored doors on the first floor had been smashed away, as if with great force- and Frank, Jessica, O'Connell, and Wayne were nowhere to be found. The most alarming thing, though, was the large, dead creature slumped over in the fountain. Though it had been riddled with bullets, its reptilian appearance left no mistake as to the creature's identity- it was a Hunter, one of Umbrella's most advanced bio organic weapons.

And its claws were stained red with blood.

"What the fuck is this thing?" Sara asked, nudging the creature with her shotgun.

"A Hunter," I said, absentmindedly, as I thought out our next moves. "It has to be- it's pure predator," I added.

"Right," Sara said, sighing.

"Chris told me about them," I explained, "they're stupidly strong. They can take your head off with one good swipe of their claws."

"Lovely. I hope this blood doesn't belong to anybody we know, then."

"That would be bad," I agreed, "but we can't think about that right now. We need to find the rest of the team." I looked around; there were four doors on each floor. One of the doors on the second floor had been barricaded, the other one- ours- left clear; the other two were blue and red, and presumably locked.

Meaning that they must have gone through one of the doors downstairs. One of the barricaded doors downstairs had been smashed through, presumably by the Hunter. There was also another blue door and red door- both not barricaded, both presumably locked like the ones upstairs- and another door that looked like it hadn't been barricaded at all. There was also the entrance to this facility, but I doubted that they had gone there- it being a dead end and all.

"There's three places they could have gone," I said, "they could've returned to the bathroom- which is unlikely, to me, considering it's a dead end and not very defensible. They could've gone through there, where the Hunter came from. Or, they could've gone through that door over there." I pointed out the closed door.

"I think we should check there first," I said, "since I think they'd have to be pretty desperate to run back where the Hunter came from."

Sara opened her mouth to say something, only to stop as the door I had pointed out opened. A tall figure- easily eight feet in height- ducked its head under the door frame as it stepped out of the shadows. Its skin was stitched together in some places, and mottled brown with a rare spot of green. It wore dark pants and boots but no shirt, revealing a muscular body. There were leather straps on its chest, holding what looked like a massive pair of scissors on its back. Two beady white eyes locked onto me immediately, narrowing. It didn't have lips, leaving its teeth exposed.

It pointed a finger at me, and opened its mouth to bellow one word, stretched out into a growl. "STAAAAAARRRRS…"


	8. Chapter 7: Nemesis

**Chapter Seven: Nemesis**

The Tyrant's breathing seemed to echo throughout the hall as it took a few slow steps towards us, Sara and I backing up at the same time to keep distance between us and it. It stopped, and I could almost see the muscles tensing in it's body as it bent down slightly-

-and the Tyrant began to _move_ , its heavy footfalls echoing off of the tiled floor as it charged towards us. Sara recoiled in surprise, trying desperately to aim her weapon as the monster ran towards us. I raised my machine gun, aiming for its legs, and fired a spray of bullets; the Tyrant stumbled but quickly resumed its charge, seemingly none the worse for wear.

Sara got a few shots of her own in, aiming at the Tyrant's chest, but the bullets seemed to do even less than I had done- barely penetrating, with a few getting pushed out by a combination of movement and rapid healing. Before she could take aim again I grabbed her arm, wrenching her towards the door that had been busted down. "Go!"

Sara didn't hesitate, and neither did I; fighting a creature that powerful just wasn't possible with what we had on us. The other side of the door concealed yet another hallway, which stretched forward at around 200 feet in length. Numerous grey doors lined the hallway, with a few reds mixed in. None of them were labeled as far as I could tell, though I suspected that this was the living quarters. A grey door at the end of the hallway was open to another room. There was no time to look through any of the other doors; all we could do was run for our lives, and hope that it wasn't a dead end.

A few seconds later, the door behind us exploded inwards violently as the Tyrant burst through. I looked back to see that it hadn't even stopped moving afterwards, and that the door had been damn near obliterated from whatever it did to knock it down. "STAAAARRRSS!"

I twisted around, drawing my Samurai Edge this time and moving backwards as it dashed towards us. Aiming for the head would be trivial, but a nagging feeling kept me from taking the shot. I wasn't sure if it would be lethal in the first place, but-

-I aimed for its chest instead, and to my relief it actually seemed to slow it down a bit. The Tyrant let out a grunt as dark red blood began to ooze out of the new hole on the right side of it's chest. I wasn't sure if it could actually feel pain, but I decided to shoot it again for good measure since it seemed to be working.

If I was right, I'd have to apologize for that later- the Tyrant pursuing us matched the description of one of the companions I had purchased. Although I wasn't sure why it was trying to kill me at the moment, if I was right he'd be a huge help in surviving.

As Sara reached the end of the hallway, looking back at me as I ran the last few feet to join her, my brow furrowed as a thought occurred- did Jumpchan create my companions, or did they always exist and he just made sure I would meet them? Both were somewhat troubling in their own ways.

…I had enough to worry about as it was, I didn't need to add that to the list. Sara slammed the door shut as soon as I entered the room. It appeared to be a lounge of some sort, to go along with the living quarters. A break room? The room had an almost reverse-ziggurat feel to it, with several large steps leading down to a central landing with several couches and tables. Packed bookshelves, portraits, and display cases lined the wall in front of us and to our left. To the right, there were a few more portraits as well as another grey door. Sara and I both started towards it, reaching the door just as the Tyrant entered the room. He spotted us immediately, and began to move towards us; a little slower thanks to the furniture in his way.

The next room was a kitchen; a pretty big one. There were several fridges, ovens, stoves, microwaves, cabinets, and what must've been freezer storage near the back, and there was ample counter space. It reminded me more of something you might see in a restaurant than a workplace, though it made sense given how many people must've worked in this place. Not just scientists, but support staff and janitors as well. I knew Umbrella's rabbit hole was deep, but seeing a lab like this in the middle of Chicago was something else.

It also made me wish that I didn't skip breakfast.

Unfortunately, it seemed that we had reached a dead end. I closed the door behind us, but that left only seconds to come up with a plan. My mind raced; we'd have to try and get around the Tyrant somehow. The kitchen was a bit cramped, which could both help and hinder us. Two sets of counters in the center of the room gave it a rough 8 shape. The freezer was probably a dead end- then again, Umbrella's design choices were suspect at best and for all I knew it led to the executive office. Nothing in the various cabinets and cupboards would be of much use. The ovens used gas; that could help, maybe, if we didn't blow ourselves up.

Shit. "Hide!" I said, pointing towards the closest counter. Sara ducked behind it quickly, and barely a second later the door was thrown open with a thunderous crash. The Tyrant, not missing a beat, stepped towards me as I began to back up further into the kitchen, raising my machine gun as I went. Before I could fire, the Tyrant's hand shot out, knocking my weapon out of my hand and sending a sharp jab of pain up my right arm.

I drew my Samurai Edge, trying to hold it steady as I searched for a possible weakness; something I could shoot that might wind him so we could escape, or even put him down long enough to figure out if he was being controlled somehow. It was uncanny how similar the Tyrant looked to Nemesis now that it was right in front of me. Though it lacked the exposed parasite on the right shoulder and had both of its eyes, it was otherwise a dead ringer.

Sara stood up behind the counter, bringing her shotgun up as she did to aim at the tyrant's head. A loud crack echoed throughout the room when she fired, sending a spray of red blood up onto the ceiling as the buckshot tore into the creature's hide. The tyrant stumbled for a moment, as if off balance, but despite taking what would've been a lethal blow on a human it didn't seem that bothered by the head shot.

The Tyrant raised its hands above its head, as if to smash me into the ground. At the same time, I lowered my Samurai Edge to aim at his right kneecap, firing two bullets in succession. The Tyrant's leg wobbled as it fell to one knee, using it's right arm to keep from falling on its face. The other arm shot out, grazing my body armor as it struck me in the side. Despite the blow being relatively light, I still felt the wind get knocked out of me, and I stumbled backwards reflexively.

Sara fired another shot into the Tyrant's head, and it responded with a raspy groan of pain- lowering its head to reveal that a good two-thirds of the back of it's head had become a twisted mess of flesh and bone. Something wriggled around inside of the gore, like a worm in the ground, and I could see it's flesh slowly pulling together as the advanced healing that most Tyrants had started to work. I could also see that the weapon on its back that I had identified as a giant pair of scissors earlier was actually a pair of chainsaws that had been kludged together somehow. It was definitely something you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of.

But more importantly, it was such a distinctive piece of machinery that it instantly confirmed my suspicions about the Tyrant being my companion. It perfectly matched the description of one of the weapons I could've bought, which was a replication of something that probably wouldn't exist for another two decades. Barring an extremely unlikely coincidence, it had to be a sign that he was supposed to be my ally.

Either that, or my supposed Benefactor was downright malicious, which was a possibility I didn't want to dwell on for long- even if it was in the back of my mind due to the less than stellar start to my adventures.

Sara fired again, keeping the Tyrant on its knees as I ran around the other side of the counter, grabbing my machine gun off of the floor as I went. Another shot after that actually seemed to make the Tyrant flinch, which gave me a small pang of sympathy. I looked at Sara as she coolly stared the Tyrant down; I wanted to tell her to stop, but as I opened my mouth to say the words she fired again, making the Tyrant collapse on the ground. Blood started to slowly pool down from its head wound; was it dead? Unconscious?

My mouth felt dry as I nodded to Sara, "Good work." A few drops of sweat trickled down from her brow as she nodded to me. She looked a bit red in the face, but from the way she glanced at the Tyrant I could tell it was more from… anger, or fear than anything else.

"Is it… dead?" she asked, looking back at me. She had a death grip on her shotgun, though it wavered slightly. I couldn't blame her for being nervous, especially when I saw the expression on her face when I shook my head.

"I'm pretty sure it's just sleeping. You did a lot of damage to it, so hopefully it'll be unconscious for a while…"

"Wh- what?!" she spluttered, digging a handful of fresh shells out of her pocket, "we should finish it off then!"

I shook my head. "My fellow members of S.T.A.R.S. encountered a less advanced version of that creature out in that mansion I told you about. My buddy Chris ended up taking it out… but he needed a rocket launcher to do it. Destroy the whole body, right? As it is, I think we've barely cracked this guy's skull open."

"Well… fuck us, then."

I scoffed, "Yeeep." We stood in silence for a few seconds more; I moved to scratch the back of my head, but my arm was still sore so I let it awkwardly flop back down to my side.

"Why do you think it has those weird chainsaw-scissors?"

"I dunno," I answered, quickly, "maybe he's the gardener."

"Hah. There's something weird about them, though."

"Yeah, you can't find those at Home Depot."

"No, I'm serious," she said, flatly, moving towards the downed Tyrant. She carefully lifted one of the blades up, avoiding the teeth. "Maybe it wasn't the scissors… I saw something red on its back. Or at least, I thought I did."

My thoughts halted as I put two and two together. I moved to help her lift the heavy machinery, lifting the pair of scissors off of the Tyrant's back to reveal something that looked like a red gem. It glowed, very faintly, and seemed to be set in a medal spider or scarab of some sort. Upon recognizing it I nearly dropped my end of the scissors.

"Oh. Shit," I said. It was a P30 injector, or maybe an earlier prototype like the Tyrant it was controlling.

The Tyrant let out a loud exhale, as if sensing that we had discovered its secret. Sara gasped, dropping her end of the shears as she backed up, retrieving her shotgun. The P30 injector was obscured once again as the Tyrant started to stir, and I backed up to join her. Sara aimed at the Tyrant's head but stopped as I vigorously shook my head. "Exit quickly and quietly, and we might survive," I hissed, jerking my head towards the door.

We exited the room, stepping as quickly through the lounge as we could while still keeping our footsteps quiet. As we entered the hallway, me closing the door gently behind us, I heard a booming roar as the Tyrant fully awoke.

There was no time to run down the hallway, I knew that much. If we tried to run for it, we'd end up getting caught again, and I doubted that we'd have enough ammunition for another fight like that. The only thing left to do was pick a door and hope for the best. I picked a nearby door at random, opening it up to reveal a surprisingly homey space. There were three sets of bunk beds with simple bedding, three well-organized looking

desks with matching chairs, as well as a large, built in closet with slated sliding doors.

The beds obviously weren't going to work out; there was too much room between the floor and the bed to use it as a hiding spot. That left the closet. Sara and I moved towards it at the same time, apparently having the same realization I did. The inside of the closet had a mixture of clothing; though it was mostly professional wear, there were also a large number of lab coats, a pair of regular coats, and even a few t-shirts and pairs of jeans. Several pairs of shoes were also on the ground; I imagined that the large variety of clothing was less intended for comfort and more in case they had to go into the city for some reason. Sara and I quickly shoved ourselves into opposite corners in the back of the closet, trying to hide our presence in a way that seemed natural. I closed the door, leaving us in silence and near total darkness.

The eerie silence was shattered as we heard a door get thrown open, the Tyrant no doubt stomping into the hallway in search of where its quarry. I just hoped that it wasn't as unerringly skilled at sniffing out its prey as the more advanced Nemesis had been, otherwise we might as well have been fish in a barrel. For several long seconds no other noise was heard, until the distinctive roar of a chainsaw broke the silence once again, followed by another thundering crash as a door was kicked in. Loud grunts, roars, and the grinding of the chainsaw's blades were all we could hear after that.

That same sequence of noises repeated, over and over, for what felt like hours as the Tyrant went room from room. Neither of us dared to make a noise for fear that we'd somehow alert our pursuer as to where we were. I had my pistol drawn, as did Sara, for all the good it would do us. Eventually, our turn came up; the Tyrant bulldozed into the room, the motors of his dual chainsaws almost deafening as he began to indiscriminately attack the room's furniture. Even the metal bunks were no match for the Tyrant's weapon and brute strength, sparks flying as he closed the metal blades over their posts, causing the whole thing to collapse.

Eventually, he stood in front of the closet. I held my breath as he opened his shears wide, exposing the rapid metal teeth on both chainsaws as he brought it ever closer. The chainsaws chewed through the wood with ease, letting more light into our hiding space as the door rapidly fell apart. We ducked at the same time, narrowly avoiding the beams of light, and were forced to duck down further as the Tyrant began to shake his shears erratically, the blades passing just overhead. Clothing was knocked aside, some of it lightly shredded from the saws. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I swore the knuckles on my hand would turn white from how tightly I was gripping my pistol.

Eventually, the pair of scissors retreated, the Tyrant briefly looking at his handiwork; I didn't dare to move a single muscle. Without a word or growl the Tyrant turned around, leaving the room to continue its search. When I heard the carnage continue in another room I breathed out, still trying to stay quiet. "Sara? You alright?"

"...I'm fine," Sara answered. She shuffled through the closet towards me, careful not to knock over any other clothes. In a quieter voice she asked, "What now?"

"Nothing to do but wait it out," I said, sighing, "we definitely can't risk fighting it now that it's got those shears out. Hopefully it'll think we left the area and decide to move on. We could also try running past it, I guess."

Sara gave me of bewilderment that told me that idea was about as smart as trying to win a fistfight with the Tyrant. "Okay, here's what I'm thinking," I said, getting ready to elaborate, "behind us is a dead end, right? Say he searches all of the rooms; he's just going to go on to search the rest of the facility. We need to go that way anyways, but if we can get around him we'll have a pretty good head start. If we start moving just after he enters a room, we should be able to get to the other end of the hallway before he goes to another one."

"That's risky," Sara said, "that's really, really fucking risky. There's so many ways that could go wrong."

"You're right," I admitted, "but it's the choice between that, and potentially having him pop up out of nowhere again when we eventually go back to the foyer. The more distance we put between him now, as quickly as possible, the better."

"...I really hate how much sense that makes. Fine, how do we know when to run then?"

"Ah… we'll wait for the doorway. There should be a lull between when he trashes one room and the next where the only sound will be his chainsaw. I'll go first, you follow behind me, we'll go quick and try not to be seen or heard. Sound good?"

Sara cradled her face with one hand for a moment, tilting her head down as she let out another exasperated sigh. "No. But…" she lifted her head, "I think we should try it anyways." I gave Sara a quick grin and a thumbs up, making her roll her eyes as she stepped out of the closet. "Don't look so pleased with yourself," she said. I hoped it wasn't just my imagination when I saw her lips turn upwards in the faintest hint of a smile.

I followed her, standing on the opposite side of the doorway so that I could look out into the hallway. The Tyrant was in the middle of rampaging through another room, so I kept my head down until he was through. Once he was done, I cautiously stuck my head out just enough so I could see into the hallway, quickly retreating back into our room as he emerged from one of the rooms on the opposite wall. I breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't immediately charge us, and waited a few more seconds so he could break into another room. As soon as I heard him get to work I popped out into the hallway, Sara close behind me as we made a break for it. I spared a quick glance into the room the Tyrant was in to see that it had its back to us, too dumb or single-minded to care about what happened behind it. When we reached the end of the hallway, we quickly stepped through the still open door and moved to the side.

Sara took a few moments to catch her breath. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"He's smarter than the average zombie, but he's still not as smart as I am," I boasted, pointing to my head. "That being said… I am running low on ammo. I'd ask if you had any to spare, but…" Sara shook her head, "Right, that's what I thought," I finished with a sigh. I looked around the room for a bit, getting my bearings on the paths available to us. There was really only one way we could go; back to the lab where we had fought HUNK. There were still a few rooms there we had yet to explore, and everywhere else was either locked, barricaded, or being prowled by Nemesis Jr. There was another door down here, but the Tyrant had come through it so I was pretty sure we wouldn't find anyone there.

Once the Tyrant had started up on another room again, we quickly went up the staircase and back tracked to the computer room. We entered the room too casually, thinking it had been cleared. It had been, but enough time had passed for one of the bodies to rise again as a Crimson Head, its clawed hands banging on the door to the bathroom, trying to get in.

And it wasn't just any zombie, either. The uniform it wore was the same as the one Sara and I were wearing. I wasn't sure how- maybe Wolf just didn't destroy enough of his brain- but Wayne was up and walking around again. I cursed under my breath, not wanting to alert our fallen comrade to our presence. Sara had a shocked look on her face, her pupils contracted immensely. I held a finger up to my lips as she looked from him to me, and drew my knife.

We'd come this far without alerting the Nemesis-like Tyrant to our whereabouts; I wasn't about to spoil that and use up some of our precious ammo to boot. I started to slowly walk towards him, avoiding the puddles of blood and various scattered objects as I made my way through the desks. He hadn't noticed me yet, but I was close enough to see the exit wound in his head from where Wolf had shot him. If he hadn't been dying, surviving that bullet would've been a miracle. I held my knife up in preparation to strike, aiming to jab it through his skull.

As luck would have it, he turned around just as I was about to strike. Clawed hands reached for my sides as he lurched forward, mouth open to try and take a bite out of my neck. I pushed him back, stepping back at the same time and flipping my knife around to take a more defensive stance. Wayne quickly recovered, running towards me again, this time managing to land a pretty good cut on my arm with a swipe of his talons. I returned the favor by grabbing his arm, throwing him into the wall and kicking him in the back for good measure. Before he could recover again, I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt to hold him in place, then drove my knife into the side of his skull. His clawed hands swiped at me, but it was too awkward of an angle for him to actually hit me. I held firm, still pressing him with all my strength as I pulled my knife out, stabbing him in a different place. His snarling gradually became a low gurgle, his movements becoming more sluggish; I stabbed him again and they stopped entirely.

I pulled my knife free and stepped back, letting him fall to the ground. Blood began to pool around his head as he stared up at the ceiling with white, unblinking eyes. Sighing with relief, I turned to look at Sara only to find that she was only a few feet away, a hand on her holster. "Nick," she spoke softly, "you got hurt again." She was already reaching for the First Aid Box that she had picked up earlier when I held up my hands to stop her.

"It's alright, it's a shallow cut, I'm fine," I said quickly, trying to reassure her, "it doesn't even hurt anymore. Save those for a real emergency." I had barely felt it while I was fighting, but it was starting to sting and ache now. It wouldn't kill me, though.

"But-"

"How about this; if either of us get hurt again we'll take care of it then?"

Sara opened her mouth to reply, but before she could the door to the bathroom swung open. Sara turned around in surprise, going for her gun again, while I merely looked at Frank as he poked his head out the door. He looked surprised as well, but quickly broke out into a big grin, stepping out to join us. "Oh, man, am I glad to see you guys!"

"Good to see you too," I nodded. I had figured that someone had to be in there; it didn't make sense for Wayne's zombie to be trying to get in otherwise.

"Hi, Frank," Sara said after breathing a sigh of relief. "Are the others in there too?"

Frank's smile fell off his face immediately. "No, I don't know where those guys are. We got separated after some monsters attacked us."

"Which monster? The gorilla-reptile or the Frankenstein's Monster?" I asked.

"Both of them," he replied, "at the same time."

Fuck, that's just what we needed. I could see the Cerberuses teaming up with the damn crows and bees already. As if it wasn't bad enough that we had a Tyrant to look out for, the sick fuck that trapped us here was having him work with hard-hitting B.O.W.s like the Hunters on top of that.

"What happened, exactly?"

"We were waiting in he lobby, like you had ordered us to do," Frank began. A pang went through my chest when he said that. "-when suddenly one of the downstairs doors was busted open by the lizard thing. We managed to shoot it down between the four of us, but then the other one showed up. None of our weapons seemed to phase it, so we ended up having to run. All of us went the same way at first, but we ended up getting separated afterwards. I think everyone else managed to head in the same direction, but lucky me, I got chased all over hell and back. I managed to lose him, hid for a while after he left, then came back here hoping to see if anyone else had come back this way, too. Then… Wayne nearly got me, and I've been sitting here holding the door closed until you guys showed up."

"So they could be anywhere in this damn maze?" Sara asked.

"Just another thing to worry about," I said. "What rooms did you go through? Did you find or see anything that might be useful?"

Frank's face seemed to light up. "Yeah, I think I found a map to this place, actually. Here," he said, pulling out the map from his back pants pocket and unfolding it. "I ripped it off some sort of notice board, but everything should be intact. I was happy we finally had a map of this place, until I actually took a look at it.

There weren't just two floors, which we knew already, but three. They all seemed to be about the same size, but while the first and second floors were mostly made up of smaller rooms and corridors with a few larger rooms scattered about, the third floor was the opposite- mostly big rooms with a few corridors connecting them and a few scattered small rooms. The map also revealed the location of the elevators and staircases that could take us to each floor, but frustratingly a lot of them seemed to be locked behind colored doors, which were also noted on the map. I hadn't been wrong in calling this place a maze.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "Let's look at this later. Frank, how are you doing on ammo count?"

"I'm almost out. Used up my first magazine on the first guy. Reloaded. Second guy showed up, I used my whole magazine on him. Ran away; reloaded. So I've just got one magazine left."

"Sara, you?"

"Lets see…" I watched as she checked her supplies; in the end, she had thirteen shotgun shells, seventeen handgun bullets, and two First Aid Sprays, along with her weapons and the stuff she had on her belt.

"Meanwhile, I've got all of… two bullets in my handgun, and ten in this machine gun," I said.

"Oh, well that's fine then," Frank said, "you can just lift the zombies up and power bomb them, can't you?"

"I probably could," I admitted, "but it'd be safer and more practical just to shoot them."

"Well… where are we going to get more ammo?" Sara asked.

I glanced down at Wayne. Now that I thought about it, nobody took anything off of him when he died. Not that anybody wanted to. But it wasn't doing him any good, so…

"Well, if that's what it takes, that's what it takes," Frank shrugged, apparently having caught on to what I was thinking. Sara did too, once he said that.

I shook my head again, then knelt down. I felt bad about looting Wayne's remains, but the need for more ammo had overtaken that. It only took a few seconds; I grabbed his spare magazines from one of the pouches on his belt, then grabbed his gun. I didn't want to search any of his other pockets after that.

"Alright… that's forty-five in total. Sara, Frank, how many do you guys need?"

"I'm fine for now," Sara replied.

"Um, I guess I should take a magazine," Frank said. I handed him one.

"Right, I guess I'm the one who's running on fumes so it makes sense that I get most of the ammo," I said. "You guys want to pull up some chairs or something so we can go over the map while I reload?"

They did so, and soon we were gathered around one of the desks. Frank laid the map out on the table, and I methodically began to reload my magazines.

"We all went through here," Wayne said, pointing to the door that we had first seen the Nemesis come through, "and after that, I ended up going through here," he pointed to an area marked 'storage', "here," he traced a line through a hallway, ending up at a room merely labeled 'security office' "and that's also where I found the map. Finally I went here, then up this staircase. This door leads back to the lobby." The last room he had entered was a 'meeting room'.

"That door was blocked off; how'd you get through it?" Sara asked.

"Er. Turns out the doors open from both sides. It would've kept out any zombies, I think, but not someone smart enough to squeeze past it like me. Or the big guy."

"Never mind that," I said, "lets figure out where we want to go. We should find the others first; I'd think that they'd still be somewhere on the left side of this facility, probably hunkered down somewhere. After that, we need to find a lab so we can see about making a cure of some sort. I think this one," I pointed out a room on the "basement" floor near the room where we had fought HUNK labeled 'virology lab', "is probably our best bet. But to get there, it looks like we need to find a key that can open red doors."

"Oh, that reminds me," Frank said, "I found another weird statue thing in the security office. It was some sort of eagle, and it had two gems like the ones you took earlier. One was green, and the other was red."

"Well, there we go," I said, "I bet those statues are hiding the keys. So the fountain has the red key, and another has a blue key. I'm not sure if there's a green key or not; I don't see any green doors on the map, but they might be unlabeled."

"So we need to find the others, find this red key so we can get to this lab, somehow make a cure, and then finally we need to find a way to get out of this place? All while dodging God knows how many monsters and zombies?" Sara asked, her voice hard. Despite that, I could see her leg bouncing up and down from nervousness.

"We're going to be find," I said, wanting to reassure the both of them, "believe it or not, I've got a good idea of what needs to be done. Trust me."

"About that," Sara began, "earlier you said something weird before we fought that HUNK guy." I looked at her in surprise, then glanced at Frank who was looking at us curiously. "About not wanting me to shoot you if you were dying, to make sure that you didn't come back as a zombie. You said you'd go into it later…?" Goddamn it, Sara; I couldn't really fault her for her curiosity, but how was I supposed to explain this to the both of them without looking totally nuts?


	9. Interlude 1: Jessica

**Interlude 1: Jessica**

Jessica leaned on the railing overlooking the first floor of the foyer, a blank expression on her face as she waited for Nick and Sara to return. Near the top of the stairs stood Williams- Frank- while O'Connell and Wolf had both taken up positions at the bottom of the stairs, each watching a different side of the room.

They had discussed it after the others had left, and they agreed- with the exception of Frank, who had cited the wisdom of having a safe place to fall back to- that splitting up was a horrible idea given their current circumstances. O'Connell felt that having more people in their group would help their chances of survival, and Wolf was suspicious of how Nick kept insisting on going off on his own. Jessica thought that was odd, too, but felt that it was more likely to be some misguided attempt to keep them safe than some mysterious, unseen ulterior motive.

Jessica wasn't sure about the others, but she didn't _want_ to be safe. She would've preferred throwing herself into the fray rather than sitting on her ass, waiting for other people to do all the hard work in finding a way out of this place. They weren't helpless; they should be right there alongside Nick and Sara, helping them clear this place out. Not sitting here, tense, waiting for something to happen and alone with their thoughts-

She stood up, shaking her head to clear it. The anxiety and fear she felt for Roger had gotten to her a few times already. The idea that he was alone in this place without her to help protect and command him filled her with worry. Jessica considered him to be a part of her family; they were partners. She knew that if he could, he would say the same thing. They had gone into dangerous situations countless times and had come out on top.

So why, then, did he ignore her command to stay earlier? There were any number of reasons she could think about; that he had sensed something in the darkness that drove his instincts wild, or that he had sensed the danger in whatever substance had rained down on top of them. The more cynical parts of her brain recalled the comments her instructors for regular training had made; that becoming a K9 officer as a woman was nigh-impossible, between the already high competition for becoming a K9 officer, the low percentage of female officers compared to men, and the meager amount of female K9 officers that resulted from those two factors. Jessica had defied those odds, and continued to defy them, every day, until-

-until today. Maybe it was her inherent weakness showing through despite the months of training she had undergone, maybe it was something else. Either way, the result put a crack in her shell, one that let her emotions, her fears and anxieties spill out. Jessica was disgusted with herself for showing that weakness to the others; to her seniors in Wolf and Nick, to her fellow female officer Sara, to her other comrades in O'Connell and Frank.

"Hey, everything alright up here?" Speaking of Frank… Jessica turned to look at him as he approached her, nodding her head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she spoke, cursing herself for how hoarse her voice sounded. "I'm just worried about Roger. And-"

"Sara and Nick?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I just wish that he'd let us do something, you know? I get that he wanted to keep Wayne safe at first," Jessica began, briefly pausing as she remembered her teammate's final moments, "but now I think we should be working as a _team_ , right?"

"Well, you're not wrong," Frank began, "I _do_ think we should have someplace we can fall back to, but maybe we should send larger groups out, too." A clear compromise on his earlier position. A few seconds later he added, "And don't worry about your dog. This place is only so big; I'm sure you'll find him soon."

"Yes… you're right. Sorry. I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"Hey," Frank shrugged, "you've got nothing to apologize for. This is a pretty shitty situation we've all wound up in. Just try and keep it together the best you can, and I'm sure everything will turn out for the best."

Jessica took a deep breath, and tried to smile. "Right. You're right. If Nick is confidant enough to go off with Sara as his only backup, then the four of us have to be fine too, right?"

"Yeah, that's the spirit," he replied, clapping her on the shoulder with a smile on his face. "I'm going to go back before Wolf gets mad at me for 'dereliction of my post' or whatever. Stay frosty."

Jessica watched as Frank crept back to his position at the top of the stairs. She wondered how he and Wolf ever got along. Then again, Frank had a way of making friends with people; a natural charisma that had him on nearly everyone's good side, even their boss's. It made her curious as to what their relationship was like when they were on patrol.

A loud bang directly below her interrupted her thoughts, soon joined by the panicked yells of Wolf and O'Connell as they opened fire on something. Jessica quickly leaned over the railing, looking down to see what had come through the door below her- gasping in shock as the strange creature darted towards the staircase. It was about as tall as a human, but much broader in the shoulders. Its skin- no, its scales were forest green. It was a digitigrade, with three pointy nails on each of its long toes. Similar talons were on each of its four fingers, long as knives, and its head had a squat, brutish look to it. It didn't seem all that fazed by the bullets that hit it, though Jessica quickly took aim and started firing on it anyways.

Once they concentrated their fire, the damage became more obvious. Though the monster tried to wade through the gunfire, even showing its intelligence by using its bestial arms to block their headshots, it was still forced back- a final round from Wolf finishing it off, its body slumping over the fountain as it fell.

"Holy shit, what is this fucking thing?" Wolf asked, approaching the creature's body. O'Connell followed, but stayed a healthy distance away. Jessica quickly moved for the stairs, following Frank who was half-way down himself.

"Looks like some sort of lizard-man," Frank commented, stepping around to get a better look.

"Is it dead?" Jessica asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs. Wolf looked back, briefly, before deciding to shoot the creature in the face.

"I think so," Wolf announced, stepping back. "I guess this is one of those 'monsters' that Nick _knew about_."

The way he said it almost sounded like an accusation, and Jessica nearly commented on it before deciding it wasn't worth it. Wolf's grudge was getting tiresome, but it wasn't entirely unfounded either. What Nick had done that day bruised the egos of a lot of people to varying degrees. She was among them, though she didn't hold it against him- even less so now that he turned out to be right. She understood why he did what he did, even if it reflected badly on everyone else as a result. He should have taken time off when the news about Raccoon City came, but the chief had insisted on him being there, which he had agreed to. In hindsight, it was obvious that he was a ticking time bomb, and the chief had inadvertently given him the perfect opportunity to go off in as spectacular a way as possible.

Wolf had taken it much more personally- not surprising considering he was one of the people who ended up having to drag Nick away from the microphone, not to mention the bloody nose Nick had accidentally given him in the scuffle. Afterwards he had an argument with Nick, who was unapologetic. Jessica wasn't sure if Nick knew what he had accidentally done at the time, but his total lack of remorse for the whole debacle had set Wolf off. Thankfully it hadn't escalated into an actual fight, but Wolf's yelling as Nick laughed him off and walked out of the building had damn near woken the dead. In the end, Nick was all but fired anyways, and Wolf received a slap on the wrist. Even that had wounded his pride, his otherwise perfect record ruined.

Jessica sighed; this whole situation was headache. She just hoped that it wouldn't end up costing one of them their lives now that they were trapped in this strange, hidden facility.

Wolf cleared his throat, making sure that all eyes were on him. "I think we should try and-"

He was cut off before he could finish, all eyes including his own drawn to the second floor as the blue door, which should have been locked, swung open. A large figure stepped out, clearly monstrous in size and appearance with a hideous open mouthed grin on its face and brown, leathery looking skin. Worse yet was the weapon it held; a massive pair of scissors, which it grasped in two hands as it started towards the staircase. It squeezed the handles as they aimed their weapons at it, unconcerned as something that sounded startlingly like a chainsaw roared to life.

They opened fire as it started down the staircase, their bullets bouncing off of the massive weapon the monster held, or his large pair of black pants, or uselessly embedding themselves in the creature's thick skin when they did manage to land a direct blow. They backed up as a group, almost cornered with the exception of the grey door behind them.

"Everyone, _run_!" Wolf called out, and just like that all hell broke loose. The creature let out a bone-shaking roar as it charged down the last few steps directly towards them. Wolf and O'Connell were the first to reach the door, followed closely by Frank with Jessica bringing up the rear. They fled into the hallway beyond, ignoring the doors they saw until they reached an intersection. Wolf and O'Connell barreled blindly ahead, while Frank turned the corner to flee in the other direction. A few paces behind him, Jessica cursed as she moved to follow, pressing against the wall for a few seconds as the monster charged past them after Wolf and O'Connell.

Jessica heard a door slam, and when she turned around she saw that Frank was nowhere to be seen. Cursing again once she realized that she'd have to find him, Jessica picked the nearest unlocked door and went through to find a large storage room, filled with shelves and brown boxes. After checking the aisles to make sure she he wasn't hiding somewhere, she moved on to the room next door.

It was a file room, from the looks of it. The walls on two sides of the room, the one that the door was on and the one to the left of that were lined with identical grey filing cabinets. Tables in the center of the room held additional file holders, each one packed with papers, folders, and even notebooks- the contents of which Jessica could only guess. There were additional filing cabinets on the far wall, but a space had been left clear to reveal what was obviously a safe of some sort.

What she saw on the wall to her right made Jessica pause. "What the fuck…?" There were nine photos hung up, dangling from brown string with red and green clothespins that reminded her of Christmas lights. The photos had the opposite effect.

The first photo was of a large, white rat. In front of it, a large hole chewed into its stomach, was a smaller and clearly dead brown rat. The fur on the front part of its body was stained red with blood, and Jessica could see stitches along its back that bulged oddly. The next picture must've been the same rat, only it appeared to be sleeping. Looking closer, it appeared to be much smaller than it had been in the earlier picture. The next picture showed the same rat, still small, with stitches on its back. The bulging was more obvious in this image, and had a disturbingly serpentine pattern to it; as if a worm or snake had been placed underneath the rodent's skin before it was sewn up.

The next picture showed the larger rat in its cage, eating food pellets. The brown rat was in the corner, clawing at the walls in an attempt to escape. Next was a picture of the white rat, still small, stitched up and wide awake. The bulges on its back had visibly shifted. The sixth picture was perhaps the most disturbing of all; the stitches on the white rat's back had burst open, revealing a large insect-like thing that looked like a cross between a worm and a centipede. The insect was crawling out of the rat's back, revealing that the rat's insides had been eaten away.

It contrasted heavily with the next picture, which showed the white rat alive and well with no stitches. However, on closer inspection it appeared to be dragging one of its hind-legs along rather than standing on it. The last two pictures were obviously in sequence, showing the white rat's back being cut open with a scalpel, with the final picture showing the worm-thing being placed inside with a pair of surgical tweezers.

Jessica didn't know what to think in that moment; all she knew was that the sight made her stomach churn and her throat tighten up. Blanching, she closed the door quickly. Frank hadn't been in there anyways.

The next door turned out to be a closet. There was nothing important inside, as far as Jessica could tell, so she left it alone. After that, several of the doors were colored red or blue; deciding that they were probably locked, she continued to the end of the hallway where a staircase waited. There were two more grey doors to check before she went up; Frank had to be inside one of them.

When she opened the first door, the sound of teeth gnashing and low, feral growls immediately met her ears. Jessica closed the door quickly, her eyes widening when she heard a bark just before the door closed. It wasn't Roger's, she could tell straightaway, but it was a bark nonetheless. Was it a security dog? Subjects for animal testing? Something else? Something slammed into the closed door, and she could hear the tell-tale scraping of a dog's paws against it.

It was more than likely feral, or worse. It wasn't Roger though, Jessica told herself. Couldn't be; she knew nearly every sound that her dog was capable of making, and that wasn't it. Breathing in shakily, she opened the door, standing to the side so that whatever animal was in there wouldn't see her.

Jessica nearly breathed a sigh of relief when the Doberman ran through the door- until she got a closer look at it. Like many of the corpses and zombies that she had seen so far, the dog was missing chunks of flesh in its sides, exposing raw muscle and bone. One ear and the surrounding skin and flesh was gone entirely, revealing the skull beneath. Jessica raised her weapon shakily, aiming for its head as it turned, sensing her. It let out another terrifying bark, head raised high; before it could move Jessica fired a shot, sending the zombie dog sprawling as it cut a path through its neck and torso. Before it could move again she fired several more shots, making sure that it stayed down.

Jessica shook terribly for a few moments, looking at the carcass in front of her. It was so easy to imagine Roger in a similar state, but Jessica knew that she couldn't think like that. Pulling her eyes away from the body was hard, but she managed to do it all the same, turning her attention back to the door. Inside she found the body that the zombie dog had been feasting on; a security guard, if his black, armored outfit was any indication. His face and limbs had been mangled horribly by the zombie Doberman. Jessica quickly peered into the rest of the small room, finding a desk that was in front of a row of monitors set into the wall. A security room. Most of the monitors had been smashed, or showed only static, but one seemed to show a mossy, ivy covered statues in some sort of jungle environment. Red flowers surrounded the statue, which appeared to have the head of a bull and the body of a lion. A small statue of an eagle also rested on the desk, a red and blue gem as its eyes.

It was strange, but there didn't appear to be anything of use in the room. Even the security guard's holster was empty. Jessica thought about taking the gems like Nick had done, but ultimately decided against it- for all she knew it'd set off an alarm, or spring a trap, and then she'd be toast. Jessica closed the door, sighing; there was just one room left. She really hoped that Frank was in there, because if he wasn't she was pretty much lost and alone. Stepping carefully around the deceased dog, she looked into the next room.

It was a long room, with surprisingly warm and ornate decor. A long oak table took up the majority of the space, with similarly made chairs surrounding it, eight in total. In each of the corner of the room there was a table which held a different item- a potted flower that looked similar to the one she had seen on the monitor earlier, a winged figure holding a Caduceus aloft, an ornate typewriter, and an oddly shaped hunk of red stone shaped vaguely like a triangle, round and smooth on one side and jagged on the other two. Jessica stepped into the room briefly, looking under the table in bewilderment. If Frank wasn't here, had he gone up the stairs? No, she would've seen him. But where was he then?

Jessica stepped back into the hallway, wondering where Frank could've gone. If he hadn't been in any of the rooms, then the only possible explanation was that he had gone through one of the colored doors, instead. There were two colored doors, both blue, on the left side of the hallway and one red door on the right. Frank had been running on the right side of the hallway, which meant that he probably went through the red door.

A wave of nausea swept over Jessica as she opened the door, the odor of rotten flesh, blood, and shit assailing her nostrils. Something pushed against the other side of the door immediately with great strength, nearly knocking her off balance as she stumbled backward, drawing her gun. A zombie stumbled out of the darkened room, shambling forward; it was missing most of its right arm, a jagged bone jutting out of the remainder of its forearm, and like the security guard its face had been savaged, exposing flesh, bone, and teeth. Jessica quickly aimed at its head, dropping it with one shot. Two more stumbled out into the hallway, and Jessica took each one out with a clean head shot. Once she was certain no more would come, she entered the room-

-and immediately collapsed to her knees, horrified, dropping her gun to the floor as she cradled her head in her hands. Tears began to spill forth and her sobs could be heard echoing down the hallway, but she didn't care.

Bloodstained cages, the metal bent in some places, some still containing the rotted bodies of their canine occupants. Surgical instruments and an operating table, also stained with blood. The light flickered overhead, damaged from some unseen accident, but still shedding light on the brutalized corpse of the German Shepard in the corner of the room.

Jessica's vision was blurry as she crawled on hands and knees towards the body, uncaring of the blood pooled on the floor that now that stained her hands and uniform. She reached a hand out towards it, feeling his fur. It wasn't cold yet, but she could tell straight away that it wasn't alive either. Slowly, gingerly, she reached for his collar, a faint hope still in her mind that it was all just a coincidence.

 _Roger._ Even through the tears, there was no mistaking the name printed neatly on the side of the nylon collar. She knew that if she flipped the collar around, she would find the words "Police K9" that served as his badge. Instead, she picked him up, cradling him as she wept into his fur.

"What's all this, then?"

Jessica couldn't bring herself to look, even when she recognized the voice- though the harshness was something she hadn't heard earlier when it had spoken over the intercoms. Director Howard Byron sighed, and snapped his fingers. A pair of rough hands suddenly grabbed Jessica, hauling her to her feet. A scream of rage and sadness tore through Jessica's throat as she felt the same hands grab for Roger, and she whirled around in anger to face the two other people in the room.

Only to discover that "people" might not have been the correct word to use. The person who had grabbed her was a statuesque beauty; a woman with platinum blonde hair and an amazonian frame, covered by heavy clothing that did little to hide her curves. She wore a white sweatshirt and sweatpants, but was barefooted. Her beauty was otherworldly, ruined only by the blank, unfeeling look on her face as she stared through Jessica. Her skin tone was pale, and had a blue tint to it, adding to the inhuman vibe she seemed to exude.

But despite the strange looks of the woman, her male counterpart was even odder. Jessica stared up at him in shock… and up and up. In contrast to the full body of the woman beside him, he was a beanpole, towering over the both of them. He must've been eight or nine feet tall, his head nearly touching the ceiling as he stared at Jessica with sunken, hollow looking eyes. An orange beard and shaggy head of hair framed his ashen face, his pallor deader than even some of the zombies that she had seen. His eyes were looked dead and grey. His clothes had to have been tailored to his body, as he wore a labcoat that would've dragged on the ground if any normal human had worn it, as well as a pair of tan pants and light blue shirt. His hands had a bony appearance to them, and each was easily half a foot in length. Strangely, despite his overall gaunt appearance, he had a bit of a paunch to his stomach.

Jessica stared at him in shock as he leaned forward, her eyes wide as his face neared hers. She was so startled that she let go of Roger, the woman moving to place him on the operating table as the director examined her. He sniffed the air, making Jessica move back a pace, then clicked his tongue as if she had failed a test. "That is a shame, hmm. I thought you might've been one of the ones to escape infection, but it appears I was wrong." He stood up straight, shaking his head as Jessica backed into a corner. "Which one are you, again? Sara? No, that's not right…"

He looked over at the operating table and made a disgusted sound. The woman turned her back to him immediately, and he walked over towards the table. His gait was wobbly, as if he would collapse at any moment. He lifted a broad hand up and placed it gingerly on Roger's neck, craning his head to read the name on his collar.

" _Leave him alone_!" Jessica screamed, going for her holster- only to remember that she had dropped her gun earlier. Her eyes darted towards it, as did the pale woman's. She ran, but the woman was quicker- easily intercepting Jessica and body slamming her into the wall with inhuman strength. Pain flared up through Jessica's body as the wind was knocked out of her, her ribs on fire as she sank to the ground.

"Stop that! You goddamn, vile bitch!" Jessica looked up as Howard advanced towards them, his hand poised to strike. The woman did nothing as his fist collided with her face, the slight movement of her head to the side being her only reaction. "Can't you see," he struck her again, using his other hand, "that this poor woman," and again, "has just lost," and again, alternating fists each time, "a loved one?!" The outrage in his voice was real as he seethed, rubbing the knuckles on his hand. "Go! Wait in the corner! If I need you, I'll ask for your help!" Obediently, the woman followed his instructions, going to stand in the corner like a scolded child.

To Jessica's surprise, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a first aid spray, gently setting it down on the ground in front of her. "I'm sorry about that," he spoke, "I'm sorry this happened to you!" Once again, Jessica was surprised by the genuine emotion in his voice. As she reached for the canister in front of her, wincing at the stinging pain in her ribs, she thought she even heard him choke back a sob. She lifted her shirt up, spraying the healing solution liberally across her stomach until the pain died down.

"Why?" she asked, standing up. Howard turned towards her again, and even in the dim, flickering light of the room she could see the tears that streamed from his eyes.

"I… I am all too familiar with the pain that you are experiencing right now," he explained, clearing his throat. "I'm sure you don't believe me. But, to try and fight back so soon after you found your _dog_ , your _partner_ …"

Jessica's eyes watered as she drew her baton. "Shut up! I'll- I'll fucking _kill_ the both of you!" She advanced forward, Howard backing up as she did, and she could see the woman tense up in the corner as he was forced against the wall.

"Wait," Howard said, putting his hands out. Jessica struck at one and he recoiled, the woman in the corner turning around as if to intervene. Howard glared at her as he continued. "Aren't you curious about why this happened?" As Jessica struck at him again the man, not bothered by the attack, spoke again, "You see, your friend Nick is our salvation! The prodigal son, shamed and destitute, returning to his father's arms."

Jessica paused, staring at the man warily. "Nick doesn't know who his parents are. He's an orphan. Wait, are you saying-"

Howard's eyes twinkled. "No, it's not what you're thinking. But I do know Nick's father, yes, I know him quite well. His mother is unimportant to me. Ah, but when I spoke earlier of the father, I wasn't referring to him. I meant Umbrella, the company that gave him life! So, in a sense I suppose I am somewhat responsible for his creation, however indirectly. Hmm." Howard seemed pensive for a moment, further baffling Jessica. His personality was totally unlike the maniac she and the others had heard over the intercoms, though a hint of that mania still existed in his voice, which was also unfitting for his body. He didn't sound like a monster, he sounded… normal.

"Oh, but enough of that. I've wronged you, so I believe I should try and right that wrong. Follow me, please." Howard turned towards the door; he was tall enough that he had to duck under the frame to fit. "Follow behind, Morrigan," he spoke, his voice cold. The woman moved behind Jessica as Howard placed a hand on the handle. "Sorry, but I'm afraid I can't have you running off."

They entered the hallway again, Jessica glancing back behind Morrigan to see Roger lying on the operating table. Trying not to cry again, and caught between two monsters, she had no choice but to move forward as Howard opened one of the blue doors, stepping inside. The room was pitch black, but as Howard stepped inside Jessica realized that it wasn't due to a lack of light, but because of the color of the floors and walls. Even the door was black on this side. Jessica stepped into the room with him, looking for whatever light source was illuminating the space as Howard sat down on a leather chair in the center of the room, staring at a painting on the wall. Jessica was still looking around the space when her eyes fell upon the artwork.

"This is a symbolic piece, created by my hand after I was given a new lease on life," Howard explained. Jessica looked away in disgust. "A recreation of that fateful night, so long ago. I still remember it so vividly; the way our car spun around on the slick, icy roads as I swerved to avoid the truck barreling down the road towards us. How the front of our car was crushed against the tree, upside down, after we tumbled down that steep, snowy incline. How I, as the only survivor, crawled out of the wreckage, my ribs and organs a ruined mess."

Howard sighed, deeply, and Jessica dared to glance at him, his eyes glued to the most disturbing element of the picture. The landscape was as he described; a snowy forest near an icy road, a grey car smashed, upside down, against a large pine tree. She could see the bodies in the car, mangled in the wreck, but what disturbed her the most was the small shape lying in the snow, a fleshy cord trailing from the window on the the driver's side and connecting to its body. A fetus.

"I was _reborn_ , that day," Howard spoke softly, "I was forced to take desperate measures to survive that accident. The only thought going through my mind was that I had to survive. I had to keep the _dream_ alive! So I…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "Well, what you see is the result of that." Howard stood up, looking down at Jessica as he stretched, sighing as his bones popped.

"To be honest, my dear, I'm impressed by your tenacity. Even while you mourned your beloved partner, you still had the fierceness and tenacity to try and fight back against those responsible for his death." Jessica gritted her teeth as he continued, "You remind me of my self, in that respect. Someone who, even in the depths of their despair, never gives up their fight."

"Get. To. The _point_ ," Jessica growled. Howard chuckled.

"Well. I'm just saying that if you were willing to- to ignore my misdeeds for a time, and help me get my hands on Nick- _alive_ , if possible, as I'm sure his body is replete with useful data- I'm sure we could come to some… understanding? I could never replace your dog, I know, but I can offer you a cure to the virus you're infected with. A new lease on life, like I got so long ago? That seems… poetic, to me."

Howard gave her a genuine, almost fatherly smile as she looked him in the eyes. "Drop dead," she told him; his smile vanished in an instant.

"You don't mean that," he said, more of a statement than a question. Jessica drew her knife from her belt and lunged forward, stabbing him in the stomach before Morrigan could intervene. He looked down at the knife in his belly blankly, pulling it loose and allowing it to drop to the floor. Though it had cut into flesh, the wound wasn't bleeding at all.

"What a waste," he said, as Morrigan stepped into the room. Turning around, he shook his head. "What a damn _waste_! Here I thought we were the same, but you just- just threw your life away! For _nothing_! Such a blatant disregard for your own self-preservation… and in _here_ , of all places?! _Disgusting_! Aggh, leave now!"

Morrigan forced Jessica out of the room, pushing her roughly into the hallway. She looked back at Howard as he sat back down in his chair. "As one final kindness, I'll allow you to die alongside your animal. Morrigan, make it quick!"

Jessica turned to run, but the amazonian woman quickly grabbed her arm, Jessica crying out in pain as she squeezed tightly. In contrast, Morrigan closed the door to Howard's inner sanctum quietly, gently, so as not to disturb the disturbed man further. Her orders given, she forced Jessica back towards the room where her dead companion waited, pushing her inside and closing the door behind them.

Jessica whirled on the monstrous woman, fists raised. Morrigan showed no reaction as Jessica charged forward, throwing punches at her sides, head, anywhere vulnerable. She merely waited for Jessica to overextend her reach, grabbing the officer by the throat and throwing her against the wall where Roger had been earlier.

Jessica blacked out for a few seconds from the pain, eyes opening to find that Roger was draped over her lap. Blood leaked from her mouth as her gaze drifted from him to Morrigan, who stood over them both. The ache in her body was immense, but she still found the strength to hug Roger's body tightly. Morrigan's appearance began to shift, the bones on her face and one of her hands cracking. Her mouth opened halfway between a grimace and a smile, most of her teeth now longer and pointier.

"Frank, Nick, Wolf, Sara, O'Connell… anyone, please…"

Too weak and too tired to move, she could only close her eyes as the woman standing over her underwent a rapid transformation. Though her profile remained the same, her hands spouted talons in place of fingernails and her mouth was forced into a monstrous grin. Breathing hard from the effort of transforming, Morrigan raised her hand to strike.

* * *

Morrigan stepped out of the room, turning when she found Howard waiting for her. She looked wholly human again, though one of her hands was now stained with blood. "What was I supposed to do? I _needed_ a break. It's a shame it ended up like that, but-" Howard stopped suddenly, tossing her a white key. "Lock up for me. Oh," he sighed, moving for the stairs, muttering to himself as he slowly shambled forward, "I'm sorry, Amara. It'll all be worth it in the end, you'll see…"


End file.
